Fair Game
by Raven O'Connor
Summary: COMPLETED Why does Frank suddenly become a target from shadowy characters? The Hardys are going to find out why...
1. CHAPTER 1

Disclaimer: 

This is a not-for-profit work of fiction. I don't own the Hardy Boys. The Hardy Boys and other related characters are copyrights or trademarks of Simon & Schuster, and other legal holders. 

By Raven

**CHAPTER 1**

It was one of those days when eighteen-year-old Frank Hardy just hated going to school. He couldn't help dreading what other troubles might lay ahead before the end of the day. His day didn't start like he had intended. First, he woke up with a bump on his forehead. He couldn't believe he had forgotten to put away his textbooks that were lying all over the floor, causing him to trip and sprawl when he was climbing out of the bed.

He grimaced when he thought about the event occurred after that. He wasn't sure if it was Joe's doing, but he didn't notice a bar of soap on the floor when he entered the bathroom. As a result, he got another bump and bruise on his rear. 

Not that everyone at school was asking about the large egg-sized lump on top of his head. Since he and his seventeen-year-old brother, Joe, always had a knack getting into trouble on a case, seeing a few scrapes, and bumps on them was nothing new to the others by now. But when his girlfriend, Callie Shaw, had asked him about the bump during lunch, everyone at the table just gawked at him when he told her what had happened. Frank suddenly felt he had grown a pair of horns on his head. 

"What?" Frank had asked, feeling defensive. 

"Erm, nothing. It seems a bit out of character for you," Joe replied. His face was impassive, but the look in his blue eyes showed pure amusement. 

Frank was still reeling by his misadventures this morning that he didn't realized the principal, Mr. Shelbrooke, stopped him before he entered his English class. 

"Mr. Hardy, please see me after school," the principal told him with a serious look on his face. 

"What's this about?" Frank asked him curiously. 

"You'll know about it this afternoon," he replied cryptically. 

When the principal left, Frank just stared at the back of the man in bafflement. Shaking his head, he entered his class. 

Then the next thing he knew, he was caught writing something else besides copying the notes on the blackboard by his English teacher. 

His English teacher, Mr. Wakefield, had snatched the paper that Frank had been writing on before he could hide it. 

"Hmm, what's this…" Mr. Wakefield read with interest. "Callie, I have a meeting with Mr. S this afternoon. Sorry I won't be able to send you home. Love Frank." 

The rest of the students in the class stared and snickered, as if they couldn't believe what Frank was doing. Everyone in school knew how quiet, and studious he was. Frank flushed, feeling his face turning deep red. He felt like crawling underneath his desk. Even without looking, he could tell he had embarrassed Callie, too. She was sitting at another desk, next to him, and he didn't dare to look at her. Unconsciously, he ran his hand through his dark hair. It was a habit he couldn't help doing when he was nervous. 

"Love! What an interesting subject," Mr. Wakefield had exclaimed. "Now, if we take a look at Shakespeare's work…" 

Frank groaned inwardly. This was going to be a long day. 

By the time the class was over, Callie approached him. 

"Don't worry, Frank, I won't get mad at you," she assured him before he could speak up. Pushing back a strand of blond hair behind her ear, she grinned at him. "Just don't ever do that again when he's patrolling around the room," she added good-naturedly. 

"Wouldn't think of it." 

Her brown eyes twinkled with amusement. "I don't know what's wrong with you today, but I love you just the same. Besides, you look so cute with that baffled-look on your face." 

Frank reddened, but he couldn't help smiling warmly at her. "Thanks, Callie. That should make my day a lot better." 

"Anyway, what's the deal with Mr. S?" she asked curiously. 

"I've no idea," Frank admitted. "He just told me to meet him after school, that's all." 

"Hmm, I wonder why. Let's hope you're not getting a detention," Callie replied with a laugh. "Considering your stroke of luck today…" 

"Don't remind me. I don't need another more of _those_," he groaned, shaking his head. 

"Well, I just have to get a ride from Vanessa," Callie said and shrugged. Vanessa Bender was Joe's girlfriend. 

"Okay," Frank replied, as she gave him a quick kiss before saying goodbye. "Oh, by the way, tell Joe I would be late. I know he hates waiting," he added as an afterthought. 

"Sure." She smiled and headed to a corridor that led downstairs. 

A few minutes later, Frank was already standing outside the principal's office. Let's hope it's something good, he thought. Whenever he was being called to the principal's office, it usually wasn't about detention, which was usually the main reason other students had for being here. 

He took a deep breath before knocking on the door. 

"Come in," he heard the Mr. Shelbrooke's voice called out. 

Frank was surprised when he saw Phil Cohen sitting beside an empty chair in front of the principal's desk. Phil, a black-haired boy, was one of the Hardy's close friends. Like Frank, Phil was also an A-student in Bayport High. 

"Sit down, Mr. Hardy," the principal told Frank, indicating toward the empty chair. 

When he sat down, he glanced at Phil quizzically. Phil just shrugged, indicating that he didn't know what was going on, either. 

"I'm sure you're wondering why I'm having a meeting with you two," the principal began with a broad smile. 

"Is it about the science project for next week?" Frank asked on a hunch. He and Phil were the only contestants from Bayport High that would compete for Regional Youth Science and Technology Competition. They would be competing against the other students from the northeastern region of US. 

"Not entirely, but it has something to do with it," Mr. Shelbrooke told them. "You see, EDevice, the company that's sponsoring the project, is very impressed with your work that they are offering you two scholarships. It will be affected immediately when you start college, that is if you decided to accept it." 

"Oh, wow," Phil said excitedly. 

"You, my friend, will have a hard time to choose one," Frank told his friend with a grin. 

Phil had been offered numerous scholarships from various big technological companies. Since he had taken a lot of summer jobs in some of these companies, his expertise would be greatly useful to fill the void for the lucky company. 

"I know," his friend agreed with a laugh. 

"Here's the application form." The principal handed each of them a piece of paper. 

"Thanks," Frank said and accepted the form. 

"Well, I hope you think about it for a week before sending them in," Mr. Shelbrooke told the boys. 

"We will," Phil replied, with an excited look on his face. 

After thanking the principal, both boys headed out of the office. 

"So, you're going to accept it?" Phil asked, as they walked along the hallway. 

"I'm going to do a research about this company before I sign on," Frank replied. 

"I know the company's still new, but it's been very successful with their nanotechnology and semiconductor products," Phil replied. "It's a good prospect, but like you said, I'm going to think about it, too." 

Blond-haired Joe Hardy was waiting in the van, listening and nodding his head to heavy metal music when Frank reached the parking lot. 

"So, what's up with Mr. S?" Joe asked when Frank climbed into the van. "He didn't get you into detention, did he?" he grinned. 

"Nope," Frank laughed. "I've got offered a scholarship," he announced simply as he turned off the loud music. 

Joe's hand stopped twisting the key in the ignition and stared at his brother. "Congratulations, but why only you? Shouldn't he be giving everyone the same chance?" He looked quizzically at Frank. 

"It's like this," Frank began, and told Joe how the principal had asked Phil and him for a short meeting, and the offer for scholarship for participating the science project. 

"Wow, that's great, Frank," Joe commented when Frank had finished explaining. "You should be proud of that little flying-thingy you did with Phil." 

Frank rolled his eyes upwards. "It's just a simple propeller model using fuzzy logic as the controller." 

"What a fuzzy description," Joe cracked, as he started the van, and pulled out of the parking space. 

"Very funny," Frank muttered. "We didn't think at first it would be accepted when Phil and I made the thing for fun." 

Joe shook his head in amazement. "Man, sometimes you're such a weirdo." 

When they arrived home a few minutes later, Joe immediately went to the kitchen, and Frank went up to his room, wanting to check out the scholarship, and finished his homework. 

Frank stopped in front of his room when he had opened the door. He was startled at the sight in front of him. His usual neat and tidy room was now in shambles. Someone had ransacked his room! 


	2. CHAPTER 2

**CHAPTER 2**

Frank walked into his room and surveyed everything. He checked his valuable possessions and noticed they weren't taken. His computer was still here, even his stereo, and trophies. He entered the bathroom that adjoined with his brother's room. 

He groaned when he realized it was impossible to tell if Joe's room was ransacked. 

"What happened to your room? Are you upset over something?" Joe's voice suddenly echoed from the bathroom. He was carrying a plate full of sandwiches on one arm, a jar of chocolate chip cookies on the other, and a carton of milk on his hand. 

"Someone's ransacked my room," Frank replied, eyeing the food Joe was holding. "Don't you have enough from lunch today?"

"Hey, I'm a growing boy," his brother complained. Then he grew serious. "I can't believe someone ransacked your room. You're one of the nicest guy on earth, unless of course you're keeping secrets from me…" Joe raised his eyebrows questioningly with a grin. 

"Yeah, right," Frank mumbled. "Maybe Aunt Gertrude had heard something while she was here this afternoon, or morning…" 

Gertrude Hardy was their father's older sister. Their mother, Laura, was visiting a distant relative in Scotland. Fenton Hardy, their father, a private detective, would be home this evening from his trip from New York. 

"Didn't see her in the kitchen, but the alarm was turned off. That would mean she's out for a short time," Joe replied and shrugged. "So, what about my room? Is it ransacked, too?" he asked, stepping through the doorway. 

"You're asking me?" Frank asked incredulously. "Your room looks ransacked everyday." 

Joe propped the food on a pile of scattered papers on his desk. "Nope, I don't think it's ransacked," he said, after giving his room a brief glance. 

"I think I better call the police, though I doubt they would get any prints," Frank said and went to the nightstand and picked up the receiver. "We also better check if there's any force entry on the doors or windows," he added before pressing the buttons. 

"I'll check on it," Joe volunteered, munching the sandwich that he was holding. In a flash, he was out of the room. 

Frank quickly made the call, and then went back to his room. He noticed the windows were tightly shut. That would mean the intruder came through the door. The drawers from his desk looked as if they were searched. His clothes, and underwear were strewn all over the floor from the dresser and the closet. Even the mattress on his bed was pulled out. He was displeased to see his bookcase was a mess. A book on his desk caught his eyes. 

"The intruder went through the back door. I saw a few scratches on the knob. No other rooms were ransacked, though," Joe reported when he entered Frank's room a few minutes later. "Is anything missing?" he asked, surveying the room carefully. 

"Not that I see right now. I have to check after I get my room cleaned up," Frank told him, frowning at the mess. "But I have a feeling someone was searching for something. I don't know why they even bother to look through this coloring book," he explained as he picked up the book from his desk. It was the first prize that he had won when he was in the kindergarten. For Frank, it was his memento of his first achievement during his pre-school years. 

"Um, actually, I did that – the book, I mean," Joe replied, sheepishly. 

Frank raised his eyebrows questioningly. "I'm already dreading to hear your explanation." 

"Well, uh, Vanessa and I were discussing something about your…_creative talent_ the other day," Joe grinned mischievously. "So, I showed her your coloring book to see how…um, creative you are." 

Before Frank could retort, Joe was already out of the room in a flash. Frank sighed. Sometimes he felt like strangling his brother until he begged for mercy. _Are younger brothers always this…nosy?_

The police came five minutes later. As usual, Con Riley was questioning them. Con was a good friend of the Hardys from the Bayport Police Department. He glanced at Frank's room. Then he patted the pocket of his blue uniform jacket for a pen as he flipped his notebook open. 

"So, are you on a case right now?" Con Riley started asking, finally finding the pen that he was searching for. 

"No," Frank replied. He stepped aside to give way for other police officers to enter his room after showing them the marks on the back door. 

"No?" Con Riley looked at them incredulously. "Are you sure? I know you two have a knack to stumble on cases wherever you go." 

"He's telling the truth, Con," Joe affirmed. "Unless someone's very upset over Frank's immaculate room." He grinned. 

The police officer sighed. "Well, let me know if you find out anything," he told the boys. 

"What in the world is going on here?" They heard Aunt Gertrude's voice exploded as she ascended the stairs. "I was only gone for a few minutes to refill the gas, and when I got home, I see all those hammer and saws. I can't even park my own bucket in the garage!" 

Frank and Joe looked on with amusement. They knew how much she loved watching old detective and spy movies, and she would use the slang that she had newly learned as much as she liked. 

"Frank's room been ransacked, Aunt Gertrude," Joe supplied. 

"That's preposterous. It couldn't have been while I was in the house, I would have heard something," she declared. 

"So, someone knew you were going out, and entered the house while you were gone," Frank said thoughtfully. 

"That would mean whoever it was had been watching the house," Joe added. 

"Are you really sure you're not on a case?" Con Riley asked exasperatedly. 

"If we found out we're on a case, we'll let you know," Joe told Con good-naturedly. 

"You better," Con reminded him with a stern look. "I think I'll go and check what they have found out." He jerked his thumb toward Frank's room that was still examined by a couple of forensic experts. 

"Aunt Gertrude, you didn't go anywhere else today?" Frank asked. 

"Just my usual grocery shopping, other than that, no," she replied. 

"So, they could have entered during that time, too," Joe surmised. 

"Well, we'd better get going now," Con Riley came over a few minutes later. "We didn't find any prints there." 

"Thanks, Con," Frank replied, as the policeman descended the stairs. 

When the police had gone, Joe turned to Frank. "Looks like you have some _major_ cleaning up to do," he smirked. 

"This is just not my day," Frank sighed, massaging the bump on his forehead, a reminder of this morning's event. 

"You'd better put some ice on that," Aunt Gertrude told him. "I'm just glad no one's hurt. Now, I better prepare the dinner." With that, she left and headed to the kitchen. 

"How about if we ask the neighbors if they had seen something?" Frank suggested when their aunt was out of earshot. 

Joe shrugged. "Sure." 

They spent a few minutes asking questions to their neighbors, but all of them didn't see anyone suspicious hovering nearby the Hardy's house. 

"Tough luck," Joe remarked as they walked back to their house. "Let's hope it doesn't happen again. It might be a random burglary or something." 

"I guess so," Frank agreed quietly. 

*** 

"Have you decided anything on the scholarship?" Phil Cohen asked Frank the next morning in school during the break. He unlocked his locker and stowed his books inside. 

"No, not yet. I didn't have time. I've got to clean up my room for hours," Frank replied. So far, he had checked none of his things were missing from his room. 

"What gives?" Phil asked in surprise. 

"We got a little break-in last night," he answered simply. "So, you decided to take the offer?" he asked, changing the subject. 

"No, I've decided to see how it goes first. I've heard something about EDevice –" 

"Hardy? Frank Hardy?" A tall blond guy, with broad shoulders, and a pair of pale blue eyes suddenly interrupted the conversation. 

"Yes?" Frank looked quizzically at the boy. 

Frank had seen the guy before in his class. A senior. He had just transferred here a week ago. But Frank vaguely remembered his name. Burt? Brad? 

"Bruce Prescott," the guy supplied, flashing a white smile. 

"Hi, Bruce." Frank shook his hands. Then he quickly introduced Phil to Bruce. 

"Sorry to interrupt you, but the principal wants to see you in his office. ASAP," Bruce told Frank. 

"Just him?" Phil asked. 

"That's what he told me." Bruce shrugged. "He was looking kind of upset over something." 

Everyone in the school knew about the principal's short fuse. 

"It's probably not related to the project," Frank told Phil. "I guess I better go," he added reluctantly as he quickly placed his books inside his locker. 

"Don't forget we need to discuss the project," Phil reminded him. 

Frank gave a wave before moving away. 

When Frank entered the office a few minutes later, he couldn't help noticing some of the office staff kept giving him dirty looks. He wondered what was going on. This doesn't look good, he thought in apprehension. 

Even the atmosphere around him was tense when he stepped into the principal's office. The middle-aged man looked as if he wanted to swallow Frank alive. 

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Frank asked, bracing himself. 

"That's right, Mr. Hardy. I don't know what games you're playing here, but from now on, you're being suspended from school!" 


	3. CHAPTER 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Frank was shocked. He couldn't believe his ears by what he was hearing. "W-What have I done?" he stammered. 

"Vandalism!" 

"What?" 

Mr. Shelbrooke looked at him furiously. "Don't pretend you don't know, Mr. Hardy! Summers and Cornell have to shutdown the school server because of your doing!" 

"Mr. Shelbrooke, if you could calm down, maybe you could tell me what's going on. I've no idea what you're talking about," Frank said, trying to calm himself, too. He took a deep breath. 

"Calm down?" the principal echoed, looking darkly at Frank. "Looks like you still refuse to come clean. Try clicking the refresh button in your brain, Mr. Hardy. Does that trigger anything about sending a virus-infected email to me?" he prompted, looking at Frank levelly. 

"I certainly did not send you any emails today," Frank denied honestly, looking surprised. "Whoever that was must have set up his/her email account using my name." 

"That's not what I hear from Summers and Cornell's report," he retorted. Without wasting time, he pressed a buzzer on his phone. "Ms. Thompson, get Summers and Cornell here immediately!" he barked to his secretary. 

A minute later, there was a knock on the door. The principal called the person to come in. 

A man and a woman entered the room. Frank recognized the man, George Summers, the school system administrator, but he didn't recognize the woman, though. Frank sometimes helped George setting up the school computer lab. 

"I think you already knew Mr. Summers, Hardy," Mr. Shelbrooke said pointing to the thirty-year-old man with curly brown hair, and blue eyes. He was wearing his usual work clothes – jeans and white shirt. 

"Yes, I know," Frank replied. 

"And this," Mr. Shelbrooke pointed to the woman in her mid-twenties with medium height, "is Ms. Elizabeth Cornell. She's been working here for a few weeks as Mr. Summers's assistant." 

"Hi, call me Liz," the woman said, looking at Frank with friendly gray eyes. Her long auburn hair was tied back in a ponytail. She was wearing her clothes the opposite way from George – a formal dark brown pantsuit. 

"Hi," he replied, shaking hands with her. 

"Now, let's get back to business," the principal told them tersely. 

George turned to Frank with a rueful smile. "Well, I'm sorry to say this, Frank, but the email did come from your school account, not a Web-based email account." 

"But I didn't even login at all in the computer lab today," Frank protested. "Are you positive about this?" he asked curiously. 

"Uh-huh, we've checked the log file from the terminal it was sent from," Liz told him. "I think you know how the log file works, do you? From what I've heard from Summers, you're pretty knowledgeable with computers." 

Frank nodded somberly. "It's some sort of hard evidence of what you've been working with the computer," he answered, suddenly realizing that _this_ evidence proved him guilty even though he had nothing to do with it. 

He knew the log file system was one of the methods of computer surveillance. Through these log files, a system administrator could determine what Web sites the users had accessed, check the e-mails that they were sending, and whom they were sending e-mails to and receiving from, and what applications were being used. 

"Then I guess you know it's not uncommon that computer surveillance has been used by companies to keep track of their unsuspecting employees for cyberslacking," Liz explained. 

"I've heard some companies have fired hundreds of employees for viewing inappropriate websites, or chatting in a chatroom, or surfing the Net for their own personal use," Frank added_. At least Mr. Shelbrooke didn't expel me from school. Or else I could have called it: 'My Unforgettable Disaster Week'! _

Liz nodded in acknowledgement, looking serious. "It's true." 

"But back to the topic – like I said, I've never accessed my school email today," he told them firmly. He felt his argument sounded useless against the evidence that had been found. How was he going to defend himself right now when the evidence was against him? 

"But with the proof that we have, I'm afraid you're still being suspended, Mr. Hardy – for a week," Mr. Shelbrooke told him. His face was still red, but his anger had toned down a little. "Until the real evidence comes up that showed otherwise, that is," he added, after a thought. 

Frank's shoulders sagged down. He could see the principal still wouldn't back down from his decision to suspend him. "What about the project next week?" he asked dejectedly.

"I'm _not_ going to pull you out of the project. You will be in the competition as usual." 

Frank couldn't help feeling relieved. At least there was something he could look forward to. 

"Thanks, I guess," he mumbled, before the principal waved them off – indicating the discussion was over. 

After the three of them left the principal's office, Frank turned to George and Liz. "Do you think you could give me a hard copy of the email including the full MIME header?" he asked them. 

"If you're thinking about checking the IP address, we've checked it. It came from the computer lab," George told him. "But I'll give you the copy anyway. I also didn't believe you were behind this." 

"But IP addresses can be faked," Frank argued. 

"Then whoever it was must have known the administrator's password to access the school server just to use the IP address of one of the terminals in the lab – that is if he's accessing from outside, but then I doubt it. The log file didn't record that the computer was breached from outside," Liz said with a frown. "Are you sure you don't have any enemies?" 

"If you don't count the criminals behind bars, no - not that I know of, until now." Frank let out a frustrated breath. 

"Criminals?" Liz echoed with a questioning look. 

"It's a long story. I'll tell you later," George told his assistant. 

"Or maybe someone _really_ had used the terminal in the lab, and knew my password," Frank continued his musings, oblivious from Liz's curious inquiry. 

"Well, we can't check for that now. We have to clean up the virus that you have so-called caused," George said with a sympathetic look. "We have to close the computer lab, too." 

"I understand," Frank replied, and followed them to their office. 

After George had printed out the email and gave him the copy, Frank walked out of the room with a glum look on his face. 

*** 

Joe Hardy wearily stepped into the locker room. The PE lesson had been a killer. _And it's only the second period of the day._ He groaned inwardly as he took off his sweat-drenched T-shirt that had been uncomfortably plastered against his body. 

"Phew! I'm glad I come out of this alive," Biff Hooper, his close friend, spoke up, as if knowing what Joe had been thinking. He wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his hand as he huffed and puffed from exertion. 

"I'm glad you say that. I was going to think that I'm getting out of shape," Joe replied as he patted his flat washboard abs that didn't look as if he was lacking of exercises. 

"The only thing that's out of shape is my arm. I don't think I can even lift a book!" Biff complained, massaging his sore muscled arms that had been through merciless exercises. Mr. Lewis, their PE teacher, didn't even give his students a break between each exercise. 

"Believe me, I know how you feel." 

Joe quickly peeled off his clothes and stepped into the shower. 

He had just dried himself, and changed into fresh clothes ten minutes later when Biff came over. 

"So, have you started the history assignment, yet?" Biff asked as he stuffed his used clothes into his gym bag. 

Both of them were taking European history, and they had to write a ten-page essay on something about the despots of the fifteenth century. Joe hadn't the faintest idea what it was all about. It sounded so…college-ish. 

He shook his head. "I didn't even open my history book since the last lesson," Joe admitted. "Besides, the deadline's still a week away. You've already started it?" He looked amazed. 

Biff nodded. "I've finished writing the page numbers," he cracked. 

"Ha, ha," Joe gave a mock scowl. "I'm sure there's something about it in the library or the Internet…" 

"I guess you're right," he replied. 

Both of them almost bumped into someone when they stepped out of the locker room. 

"Hey, Frank! Don't you have a class right now?" Joe asked in surprise, smoothing his damp blond hair. 

"Man, I'm glad I caught you. You won't believe what's happened!" Frank exclaimed, looking slightly upset. 

"What?" Joe asked. 

"I've got suspended a week from school!" 

"No way!" Biff said. His eyes widened in disbelief. 

"I'm afraid it's yes way." 

"Frank Hardy, best student, got a suspension?" Joe also had the same look as Biff's. "What has gotten into Mr. S? Something bugged him this morning?" 

"Yeah, you could say that, in a way – with a different kind of bug," Frank replied. He briefly told them about the email incident. 

"Wow, I wish someone would use my account to do that," Joe said. "Then I would get a week break!" 

Frank rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Well, since I'm officially out for a week, I need the van keys. You can get a ride home from Vanessa." 

"I envy you," Joe said as he fumbled inside his pocket and handed Frank the keys. "Now that you have some time off, could you please prepare my between-meal snack before I get back home?" he asked with a pleading look. 

"In your dreams, brother – not after what you did with the coloring book." Frank jingled the keys in his hand. 

"Ooh, revenge from Frank Hardy. I'm scaaared," Joe mocked. 

"Am I missing something here?" Biff asked quizzically. 

Frank and Joe looked at each other, and then looked at Biff. "No," both of them said in unison. 

"Oookay…" Biff said slowly in bewilderment. 

"What are you going to do after this? Find out who might have framed you?" Joe asked Frank curiously. 

"What would you do if you were in my shoes?" 

"I'll celebrate my week off from school," Joe replied with a mischievous grin, "_then_ I'll find out about this person." 

"You're lucky there's only one of him. It could have been worse," Biff joked to Frank. 

"How?" 

"He could be twins." Biff laughed at his own joke. 

"I'm insulted. I'm glad you find that funny," Joe said in mock anger. 

Frank sighed heavily, "Well, I better get going now. What a way to start the day," he said in disappointment. 

"Okay, see ya later." 

After waving goodbye to them, Frank headed to the parking lot to get his van. 

As he drove back home, he began thinking the events that had been happening lately. Why was somebody onto him now? What had he done? He didn't think he had ticked someone off. 

When he got home a few minutes later, he heard the phone was ringing. Looks like no one's home, he thought. The shrill from the phone continued after he had entered the front door. 

He dashed to the phone and picked up the receiver. 

"Hello?" 

There was silence on the other side of the line. 

"Hello?" he tried again. 

He shook his head. He was about to place down the receiver when there was a sudden sharp pain at the back of his head. He staggered forward, seeing stars in front of him. He tried to turn around to get a look of his assailant, but someone smothered his face with a damp cloth. _Chloroform…_Recognizing the sickeningly sweet scent. That was his last thought before he collapsed to the floor into blackness. 


	4. CHAPTER 4

**CHAPTER 4**

Joe Hardy quickly paid for his lunch, and picked up his tray before moving toward his usual table. Phil Cohen was already sitting there. He was separating the mashed potatoes and the baked beans with his fork, making a careful border between the two substances. 

"Say, Joe, have you seen Frank today?" Phil asked. 

"Didn't you hear?" Joe asked him in surprise, setting his tray next to him. 

Vanessa Bender, Joe's girlfriend, sat next to him. 

"Hear what?" Phil asked quizzically. He finally looked up from his food. 

"Frank gets suspension from school!" Biff said before Joe could answer. Joe wondered how someone as large as Biff could suddenly appear out of nowhere. Biff flopped down on his seat opposite of Phil and Joe. 

"What?" Callie, who had just arrived at the table with a tray of food, asked in shock. "That explains why I didn't see him during English class." 

"What do you mean Frank's been suspended?" Phil asked suddenly, looking as shocked as Callie. 

Turning serious, Joe began telling them what Frank had told him. 

"Why would someone do that?" Vanessa Bender asked, pushing a strand of ash blond hair behind her ear. She began isolating the baked beans from the rest of her lunch, wondering how on earth the beans had gotten into her tray. 

"I don't know," Joe admitted. "It's kind of strange when bad things happened to Frank lately." He scooped the beans from Vanessa's tray and put them into his own. He knew baked beans weren't Vanessa's favorite. 

"I hope it's all just a coincidence. I hate to think that someone's stalking him or something," Callie said. The thoughtful frown on her face turned to worry. 

"Me, too, Callie," Joe agreed, but he didn't want to worry her and the others by not telling about the break-in yesterday. Something fishy is going on here, he thought grimly. He could feel it. He could even taste it on the chicken nugget that he was chewing right now. "Ugh! Talk about fishy, literally!" 

"Is Frank still on the competition?" Phil asked Joe. 

Joe was forced to swallow his food, before shrugging. "He didn't say. I thought you've finished with that fuzzy-thingy." 

"Just need a little enhancement," he answered. "We were planning to discuss about it today after our Physics class. I was going to give him the board." 

"Why don't you give it to me, and I'll hand it to him?" Joe suggested. 

"All right. Thanks, Joe." Phil looked relieved. 

*** 

By the time Joe got home from school, he was so weary from his football practice that he was ready to collapse on his bed. 

"Frank?" he called. 

No answer. 

"That's weird. The van is still in the driveway," Joe said to himself. Maybe he's taking a nap, he reasoned silently. 

As he walked to the living room, he caught sight of Frank's backpack lying at the foot of the couch. Boy, Frank, you're making a big point you're on holiday, Joe thought in amusement. He picked up the bag and went upstairs. 

"Frank?" Joe knocked on the bedroom door. When his brother didn't answer, Joe turned the knob slowly. There was no one in the room. 

"Where in the world are you, Frank?" Joe asked to no one as he placed Frank's backpack and the electronic board that Phil had given him on the desk. 

Wild thoughts went through Joe's mind. One of them was Frank had gone for vacation somewhere in Timbuktu. Yeah, right, Joe thought and chuckled silently. _He's probably hunting for the person who framed him. _

The next few minutes, he started searching the whole house for his brother. 

"What is it, Joe?" Fenton Hardy asked when Joe entered the study. His father, tall, dark-haired and good looking, was typing something on his computer. 

"Just wondering if Frank's in here," Joe said. 

"I just got back half an hour ago. I thought he's at home. His backpack is in the living room," Mr. Hardy replied. 

"I thought so, too. I've already put the bag in his room," Joe replied. "I guess he didn't call to tell you that he's been suspended from school?" 

Oops, Joe thought suddenly, wondering if that was supposed to be a secret. Frank didn't mention to keep it a secret. 

"Suspended?" Mr. Hardy almost exploded. His dark eyes glanced at Joe sharply, raising his dark brows in disbelief. 

Joe wasn't sure if his father was angry, or amused. He couldn't read the sudden impassive expression on his face. It was as if he could change his expression like flicking a switch. _I should learn how to do that from him someday. _

"Why didn't Mr. Shelbrooke report to me?" his father asked. 

Joe was about to reply when the phone on the desk rang. Mr. Hardy picked it up. 

"Hardy residence," he said. Then Mr. Hardy raised his eyebrows as he listened. "Mr. Shelbrooke…yes, so I've been told…Frank? No, it's Joe…uh-huh…yes…uh-huh…I am aware of that. Thank you." He placed down the receiver. 

He turned to Joe. "That was Mr. Shelbrooke. He just told me about Frank involving in school vandalism." 

Joe nodded silently. 

"Do you know what _really_ had happened?" his father asked seriously. 

Joe hesitated for a while before he told his father about the virus-infected email, and what had been happening lately. 

Mr. Hardy looked thoughtful when Joe had finished his story. "Frank wouldn't do that," he finally remarked. "And I don't like how things are going for Frank. First, his room was ransacked, now someone's been using his email account to frame him," he went on with a frown. "Are you sure you two are not on a case?" 

"No, Dad. If we are, I probably would be on the trail of the culprit by now," Joe sighed exasperatedly. 

"I'm trying to sort out all the angles," Mr. Hardy told him. "Where's he now?" 

"That's why I'm asking you. I thought you might have seen him. I've searched the whole house," Joe answered. 

"Maybe he's gone jogging, or taking a walk," Mr. Hardy suggested. "Let's not get too worried for now." 

"I hope you're right. But what if he doesn't come back at all? As far as I know, he left school before lunch, it's been hours since then." 

Mr. Hardy looked grave. "Let's give him a couple of hours more. If he doesn't come back by then, we really have to start worrying." 

*** 

Something punched Frank across his face, jerking him awake from his slumber. _Slumber? Have I been sleeping in class?_ He tried to open his eyes in difficulty. His face hurt immensely. When he finally could open his eyes, he found herself staring into darkness. _I've been blindfolded!_ All at once, he recalled being knocked out after he arrived at home – and after he was suspended from school. He still couldn't believe it had happened. His father probably would hit the roof if he told him this bad news. 

Then someone suddenly yanked the blindfold away. He blinked his eyes, trying to adjust the sudden bright light glaring above him. _Ouch!_ His head hurt so much, too. He winced in pain as a hand suddenly backhanded his face again. He could already feel the blood at the corner of his lips. 

"Good, you've woken up," an unfamiliar male voice sneered from somewhere in the room. 

When Frank finally adjusted his eyes, he realized he was in a dim room with only a light bulb beaming above his head. A musty smell filled his nostrils. He must have been in a storeroom or something like that. He could almost see silhouettes of two people - maybe more in the room, blending themselves with the darkness.

The hand slapped him once more, Frank instinctively tried to block the blow but his hands were held back by something. He finally noticed that he was trussed up to a chair. 

"Don't you have enough?" Frank gritted his teeth in anger. 

"Shut up, punk!" the man growled and raised his hand again. His face was covered with black ski mask. 

_That voice…where have I heard it before?_ It sounded vaguely familiar, even though Frank had a feeling the man was trying to disguise it. 

"That's enough!" A new commanding voice said sharply from behind the man. His voice was clear and smooth. 

Frank tried to see the other people inside the room, but all he could see were moving shadows. A question rang through his mind. _Who are these people?_

"What do you want from me?" Frank asked coldly. 

"You're here for an interrogation," the commanding man said crisply. 

"For what?" 

"For an FBI investigation." 

"You expect me to believe that?" Frank retorted. "I doubt you have any badge." 

"I'm Special Agent Morris." 

A large black-gloved hand suddenly showed a wallet with the badge to his face. But it was too fast for Frank to look at it properly before it disappeared into the darkness. He only managed to see the word FBI on it. 

"Ookay, so you're an FBI agent," Frank commented slowly, still suspicious. "What kind of investigation am I in?" 

"Espionage." 

"That's ridiculous," Frank retorted, unable to hide his surprise. He felt like laughing by the ridiculous accusation, but he also knew there was no laughing matter about these guys. "How did you reach the conclusion that I'm involved?" 

"Look, we ask questions here, not you!" Morris snapped. The man was still speaking behind the shadows. "Now, you answer our question. If you lie, you'll face the consequences. So, what's it going to be? The hard way or the easier way?" 

Frank didn't answer. His mind was racing trying to figure out what was going on, or how he ended up here. They could have kidnapped the wrong person, he reasoned silently. He, also, had a feeling these people were playing hardball – so he had to act carefully. 

Maybe he could try to loosen the ropes. But there might be someone else stationed behind him in the darkness, another voice in his mind told him. For the first time, he realized the situation was hopeless. There was nowhere he could run. 

"Now, where is it?" Morris suddenly demanded. 

"Where's what?" Frank asked in bewilderment. 

"You know what I'm talking about! The prototype!" 

"I don't know any prototype!" 

The large man that was still standing next to him suddenly sent a blow toward his midsection. Frank gritted his teeth in pain. He mentally told himself not to show them any signs of fear, or pain. 

"Now, tell!" 

Frank refused to answer. Maybe if he could get them thinking that he had the so-called prototype, would they let him go? 

"Perhaps he needs a little persuasion," Morris taunted. The thug in the black ski mask disappeared into the darkness for a short while before he came back again. 

Frank's eyes widened, when he saw the thug was holding a couple of wires in his hands. The thug deliberately crossed the deadly looking wires together until bright sizzling sparks jumped out of the tips. Frank could almost see the sinister smile on his face behind the mask as he slowly walked toward him with the live wires.

"Have you ever wonder how does it feel to be electrocuted, Mr. Hardy?" 


	5. CHAPTER 5

**CHAPTER 5**

"Okay, it's already coming to two hours now," Joe said to his father for the umpteenth time. In fact, he had been saying that for every five minutes. 

The past hour, all he had could do was eat something while pretending nothing was wrong with Frank, or twiddling his thumbs together as he waited impatiently for Frank to come home. 

Aunt Gertrude had been fussing and complaining about their dangerous work. She finally grew bored and quiet when Joe and Fenton kept replying to her in soporific 'yeses' and 'hmmms' before she returned to the kitchen. 

"Let's call the police, and the hospital first," Mr. Hardy suggested and picked up his phone. He began calling the police to request a search for Frank Hardy, even though his son hadn't been missing for forty-eight hours. But he knew Chief Collig, the chief of Bayport PD, would help his old friend out. 

Next, he called the hospital. Since there were a few of them in the area, he and Joe divided the task to call them. 

"Okay, no one with the name Frank Hardy has been admitted to Bayport General," Joe reported half an hour later as he placed down the receiver. 

"Ditto here," Mr. Hardy told him, putting down another phone. "That was from Southport Medical Center." 

He crossed the last name from the list in front of him. 

"Now what? Wait for Chief Collig to report?" Joe prompted, feeling antsy. He was itching to get out of the house and start searching for Frank. 

Suddenly, there was a scream. 

"That's Aunt Gertrude!" Joe sprang up from his chair and dashed for the door. He saw his aunt standing at the front doorway, clutching a broomstick. 

"What's wrong, Gertrude?" Mr. Hardy asked anxiously. He and Joe tried to look through the doorway that she was blocking. 

"That's Frank!" she gasped, pointing toward the front lawn. 

"Where?" Joe went through the doorway as his aunt stepped aside. 

His heart stopped for a moment when he saw Frank, blindfolded, was sprawled on the front lawn – face down and unmoving. 

"Frank!" Joe rushed toward his brother. He pulled the blindfold away. As he turned the body, he was met by a sickening sight. _Who could have done this to him? What evil madness could drive someone to do this?_

There were bruises and cuts of his brother's face. The area around his eyes had turned blue-and-green, and puffy, as if he had just survived a boxing competition. Dried blood could be seen at the corner of his lips, nose, and on the forehead. There were also some burnt marks on Frank's arms and wrists. Joe looked horrified when he recognized the wound. He had seen most of them from books that he had read about counterintelligence, showing methods of tortures to extract information from a captured spy. 

"Is he alive?" Mr. Hardy was kneeling down beside Joe. 

With trembling hands, Joe felt for a pulse. 

He let out a shaky breath of relief. "Yeah." 

"Let's get him inside." Mr. Hardy and Joe carried Frank into the house and carefully placed him on the couch. His father looked grim as he examined Frank's condition. Joe had a feeling he, too, had reached the same conclusion, even though he didn't say anything.

"Is that teeth marks?" Aunt Gertrude asked plaintively when she saw Frank's arms. 

"Yes, possibly rats'," Mr. Hardy nodded gravely. "Call Dr. Bowman, tell him we might need a tetanus shot, and some tetracyclines," he told his older sister. Dr. Bowman was the Hardy's physician. 

She nodded and immediately went to dial Dr. Bowman's number. 

"Don't you think it's easier if we send him to hospital?" Joe asked. 

"No," he replied firmly. He stood up and walked toward the window. 

"You think our house is being watched?" Joe asked when he saw his father carefully surveying the front of the house and the street. 

"Just being cautious. Whoever did those things to Frank knew what he or she was doing. There must be a reason Frank was released, or else they just would have killed him right away." 

"Dr. Bowman will arrive in about ten minutes," Gertrude Hardy announced after placing the call. "In the meantime, I'll prepare some warm water and clean up Frank's face," she said before heading to the kitchen. 

When Dr. Bowman came, he quickly checked Frank's condition. He had known the Hardys for so long that he wasn't surprised by their emergency call. He gave Frank a tetanus shot, and penicillin because he was running out of tetracyclines. He told Mr. Hardy that Frank would have to go through an antibiotic therapy by giving him penicillin for seven to ten days, and need lots of rest. 

"If he develops rashes, fever, chills, headaches, or muscle aches, or maybe a slight arthritis in the next few days, please let me know," Dr. Bowman told them. 

"We will," Mr. Hardy promised. 

After thanking the doctor, Mr. Hardy led the man to the doorway, while Joe carried Frank by the shoulder and placed him in the bedroom. 

Frank slowly regained consciousness as soon as Joe put him on the bed. 

"Ow!" Frank suddenly jerked away. He clutched his injured bandaged arms and winced. "That…hurts – a lot." 

"Sorry." 

"Joe? What are you doing here?" Frank felt confused when he heard his brother's voice. 

"What am I doing here? I live here." 

"Wha…What happened? How did I get here?" Frank asked, rubbing his eyes to adjust against the light. But he realized it was a huge mistake. The area around his eyes felt sore, and stinging from the touch that his eyes turned watery, until his nose felt a stabbing pain. He sneezed. Even his head felt heavy and big. 

"You don't remember?" Joe looked worried. 

His brother shook his head. "Too fuzzy…" He felt groggy and exhausted and sick. 

Joe stifled his groan at his brother's pun. "At least I know you're going to be all right. Maybe you'll remember something after you rest for a while." 

"All I know is my eyes hurt, my face hurts. Everything hurts. I hate it." He shivered suddenly. 

"And you look quite a sight, too. Just don't show your face to Callie for a few days. The doctor warned us that you might come down with a fever, or chills. You need to rest, _now_," Joe commanded. 

"No…got to find it…" 

"Frank, you're delirious." 

"I've got to find the ch-" 

"Frank!" Joe tried to stop his brother from climbing out of the bed. 

"Get away." 

"Later." 

"Now." 

"_Later._" 

"_Now._" 

"Mule." 

Frank's puffy eyes narrowed suspiciously at Joe. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

"I mean like I want it to mean." 

"You're acting like Aunt Gertrude."

"Who acts like me?" They heard their aunt's voice from the doorway. She was carrying an icepack. 

"He does," the brothers said in unison, pointing at one another. 

"Hmmph, I don't know if I should feel insulted. Both of you are behaving like eight-year-olds. I don't want to be _that_ young." She smacked the icepack against Frank's swollen eyes. 

"Yeow! Are you trying to cure me or puff my eyes? I'm not a dough, you know." 

"What in the world is going on here?" Mr. Hardy's voice boomed inside the room. "I can hear everything from downstairs." 

"Be still," Aunt Gertrude ordered Frank as she adjusted the icepack. 

"I believe Frank could be suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder," Joe reported to his father. 

All of them looked at Joe in shocked silence. 

"What?" Joe asked in bewilderment. "Can't I say something with medical terms?" 

"I believe you might be right about Frank, Joe," Mr. Hardy spoke up, walking toward the bed. 

"I'm fine, Dad. Aside from getting beat up, and a mild electrocution, I'm still in one piece," Frank insisted, scowling at Joe. 

Aunt Gertrude gave a startling gasp. "Electrocution?" 

"I think I'll take over from here," Mr. Hardy told his sister. He led her out of the room despite her protests. Then he closed the door before turning to Frank and Joe. "Now, are you up to tell us what had happened?" he asked Frank seriously. "Or do you want to rest first?" 

"No, I'm ready to tell," Frank told him faintly, sitting up on his bed. He placed the icepack on the side of his head. 

"Okay, I'm all ears." Joe sat on a chair next to the bed. 

Slowly and painfully, Frank told them what had happened after he got home from school, and how he ended up in a dark room. He told them about the so-called FBI interrogation, and what Agent Morris had done to extract information from him. 

Joe and his father listened silently as Frank explained. 

"You're right. I don't think those men are from the FBI," Mr. Hardy finally commented when Frank had finished. 

"But who were they? And why were they accusing me of espionage?" Frank asked. 

"Espionage is one crime that's hard to get a proof on, you usually have suspicions. I'd bet they couldn't come up with hard evidence if they had accused you of something else. It's too early to tell who were these people. I'm going to check something in my office later if there are any suspicious things going on lately," his father told them. 

"You've got any idea what prototype Morris was asking about?" Joe asked Frank, still looking slightly white after hearing what had happened to his brother. 

"Oh, yeah, they want a chip," Frank told them wearily. 

"What kind of chip?" Mr. Hardy asked curiously. 

"I don't know. I've tried asking them, but all I got was getting a fist slammed into my face each time I want an answer." Frank winced at the memory. 

"What makes them think you have the chip?" Joe asked. 

Frank shrugged, and frowned. "That's the million-dollar question, isn't it? Either they had taken the wrong person, or maybe I have it without knowing it, but they were pretty confident I've got it." 

"Is that why they released you?" 

"I've made a deal with them," Frank hedged. "I told them I have the chip…and that I will give it to them after I've found it. They'll contact me soon." 

"You're totally insane! Do you realize how dangerous it could be?" 

Frank chuckled humorlessly. "That sounds like my line." 

"How can you find the chip? That thing could almost have the size of a button, maybe even smaller. It won't make it easier to find it," Mr. Hardy pointed out. He didn't seem pleased by the turn of the situation. 

Frank sighed. "I don't know, Dad. But I know I have to find it." 

"What if you couldn't find the chip? What would they do?" Joe asked worriedly. 

Frank grew somber as he looked at Joe. "You'll be dead." 


	6. CHAPTER 6

**CHAPTER 6**

"What do you mean _I'll_ be dead?" Joe asked in shock.

"I guess I made the deal a bit _too_ early before they changed their minds and decided to make you as the bargain. By that time, it was too late for me to take back my words. I'd thought they would kill me if I don't give it to them, _not you_. That way I wouldn't be risking other people's lives," Frank replied, guiltily. "I'm very sorry about that." 

"Why did you have to make the deal with them in the first place?" Joe demanded.

"Look, I didn't realize it would be going to be this way. I know I made a huge mistake," his brother confessed wearily, "I admit, I wasn't thinking clearly that time. They wouldn't let me go until I gave them the answer they wanted to hear."

"But – " 

"All right, that's enough for now. No use crying over spilt milk," Mr. Hardy suddenly spoke up. His expression was deadly serious as he looked at his eldest son. "And that should teach you something, young man. You probably haven't been in this situation before, so for now, we'll be lenient to you." 

"Thanks…I guess," Frank replied, still didn't feel any better. He squirmed uncomfortably on his bed. 

"We need to think of our next step to outwit these people, without endangering any of you." Their father frowned thoughtfully. 

"How?" Joe asked, feeling uneasy to be used as a bargaining chip. 

"We work on what we have for now," Mr. Hardy told them. "I'm going to check something in my office, while _you two_ search for the chip, and find out who sent the email to Mr. Shelbrooke. It might be nothing, but we're _not_ leaving anything out however insignificant it is." 

"All right," Joe agreed quietly, sensing the controlled anger beneath his father's calm voice. This wasn't the time to argue with his father. Joe knew his father was right. It wasn't really Frank's fault. He wondered what he would do if he was in Frank's place. _Probably something worse._

When Mr. Hardy stormed out of the room, Frank turned to Joe. 

"Dad's really mad, isn't he?" Frank finally commented after an uncomfortable silence. 

"He'll cool off soon. I don't think he's mad at you." 

"Look, Joe –" 

Joe waved him off. "Don't worry about it. I forgive you." 

"Are you sure?" 

"Yeah. I'm a bit steamed, but like Dad said, no use getting upset over it. Those guys could have been bluffing to trick you." 

Frank was unconvinced about the bluffing part. "I hope so, but thanks anyway, even though I don't deserve it." 

"Like I said, don't worry. I realized you've been through a lot, and I guess…I've been unfair to you…Anyway, enough of that, let's start brainstorming about the case," Joe suggested, changing the subject. 

"Right," Frank agreed slowly, massaging his pounding head. 

*** 

"Okay, don't forget to ask George about the email virus," Frank reminded Joe during breakfast the next morning. 

"I didn't forget," Joe rolled his eyes to the ceiling. 

They had brainstormed about the case last night, but it didn't last long when Frank had drifted off to sleep during the discussion. 

"We need to find out everything we can," Mr. Hardy said, before drinking his morning coffee. He seemed to be in his usual self – calm, and confident. 

"What about your contact from the FBI? Did you find out anything?" Joe asked his father. 

"No, they didn't have anything so far. It's been pretty quiet around Bayport," he replied. "The FBI are very busy concentrating on an important case in Boston right now – something to do with a company…four of their employees were murdered recently." 

Frank lifted his right hand, but then fought the urge to scratch his bandaged wrist that was starting to itch. "I think Morris and his thugs had ransacked my room in the first place, and when they couldn't find the chip, they set me up with that email virus, knowing that I would either get a detention or suspension from school." 

"That way no one's going to be suspicious if you left the school so that they could kidnapped you easily and interrogated you," Mr. Hardy concluded thoughtfully. 

"But how could Frank have possibly obtained this chip?" Joe pointed out as he stabbed his pancakes with a fork, and popped it into his mouth. 

"Like he said last night, that's the million-dollar question," Mr. Hardy said, glancing at Frank. 

"I don't think anyone's given me any chip. All I want to do right now is to find this chip ASAP," Frank frowned. 

"Maybe someone had slipped it into your belongings without you knowing it?" Joe suggested. 

"That would be like looking for a needle in a haystack," Frank groaned. "I wouldn't know where to look first." He hadn't a chance to search for the chip last night due to his dizziness, and fatigue.

"And we also need to find out who these guys are," Joe reminded them. "I have a gut feeling something big is going on here." 

"Me, too," Mr. Hardy agreed. "I still don't like the deal you've made with those people, Frank, but then it's the only chance we get to find out who they are, and what they are up to. I'm sorry about last night. I didn't mean to sound…harsh." 

"I understand," Frank replied quietly. 

"Well, I better get to school," Joe said, getting up from his chair. 

After saying goodbyes to the others, Joe headed for the van. When he was already on the road, he couldn't help noticing a black sedan moving behind him. At first he didn't think the car was following him, but after he made a few turns before heading toward the school, the car was still on his tail. 

Maybe Dad was right about someone keeping us under surveillance, Joe thought. _Or maybe someone's keeping tabs on me to make sure Frank's doing his part of the bargain._ He tried to read the license plate, but it was caked with mud. _Why doesn't that surprise me? _

If he couldn't get the plate number, he could try to study the make of the car. The car was a dark blue Honda – looked as if it was manufactured fifteen years ago, judging by its boxy design. 

As Joe entered the school parking lot, he watched the car passed the school and went out of sight. He climbed out of the van and checked his surroundings again before locking the van. Noticing nothing suspicious, he jogged toward the building. He met Phil as he was climbing the stairs to his homeroom. 

"How's Frank doing?" Phil asked. 

"Pretty good." Joe decided not to mention about Frank's kidnapping. 

"It feels strange without him in school," Phil admitted. 

"I know what you mean." Joe laughed. "I feel like I'm the studious one." 

During lunch, Joe headed to the system administrator's office. He knocked on the door. 

Instead of expecting a guy, a pretty young woman answered the door. 

"You can't be George Summers," Joe looked puzzled. "Frank kept referring George as a he." 

"No, I'm not. George has to go to New York to get some backup utilities for the server, so I'm in charge here at the moment," the woman smiled, showing her dimple. "I'm Elizabeth Cornell. Call me Liz. I'm George's assistant." 

"Hardy. Joe Hardy." 

They shook hands. 

"You must be Frank's brother," Liz remarked. 

"Yup. Anyway, since George isn't here, I might as well ask you something, if you're not too busy," Joe said, pulling out the printed paper that Frank had given him this morning. His brother wasn't well last night, and he hadn't gotten time to look at it. 

"Don't worry. We've already finished cleaning up the mess with the virus, but we are still closing the computer lab for today, just as a precaution." 

Joe handed the paper to Liz. 

"I was wondering how can you tell the email wasn't sent from outside?" he asked curiously. 

"You just have to look at the MIME header," she told him simply. 

"Huh?" 

"Multipurpose Internet Mail Extension." She pointed to a few lines on the paper. "Look at this." 

     **Message-ID: POPKHFPELDKCGAAA@Bayport.High.edu **
     **Received: from 206.21.53.110 by mail-store-09.Bayport.High.edu; Fri, 13 Sep 2002 14:43:32 GMT**

"If the email was sent from outside, it would have to go through a few networks that linked in a chain. But if you look at the 'received' line in here, there's only one IP address, 206.21.53.110, which is the computer lab, and the email was received directly by the school network," she explained, pointing to the particular line on the paper.

"That means it doesn't go outside of the school network?" Joe guessed. 

"You're catching on," Liz smiled. "If you sent from outside, you might see a few 'received' lines and some extra commands like SMTP added in this email. It's like…if you want to send a letter to someone who also works in the same building, you don't have to go out of the building and go to a post office to do that. You could request the office boy to send it directly to that person." 

"So, that leaves the possibility that someone else might have known Frank's password," Joe concluded thoughtfully. "But Frank is very careful about his password. He never writes it down – always keeps them inside his head." 

"Are you implying that someone had hacked the school system?" Liz asked, frowning. "We would have noticed something if someone's trying to breach in." 

Unless someone from the school did it, Joe added silently. 

An extremely handsome tall blond guy, standing about six two, suddenly came over toward them. Joe knew he was the new guy, whom everyone in school – especially the girls, had been talking about. 

"Hi, Liz, I come to get the pictures," the guy said to Liz. 

"Oh, right," Liz said, slapping her forehead. "I'll be right back." She disappeared into her office. 

The guy turned to Joe and smiled. "Hi, I'm Bruce Prescott. I'm brand new here." 

"So, I've heard," Joe replied. "I'm Joe Hardy." 

"Another Hardy? Are you related to Frank Hardy?" Bruce looked surprised. 

"He's my older brother. You know him?" 

"He's in my class," Bruce replied. 

"Where did you transfer from?" Joe asked. 

"Cambridge, Massachusetts." 

Liz came out from her office and handed Bruce a few pieces of printed pictures of the school. 

"Thanks," Bruce said to her. "Are you sure we've never met before?" he suddenly asked her with a grin. 

Liz laughed. "Silly! I would have remembered someone like you." 

But Joe thought she looked a little bit uncomfortable. 

"Just a thought," Bruce shrugged. "Anyway, see you guys later." With that, he left them. 

Then Joe turned to Liz. "If you find out something else about the email, why don't you give us a call," he said, pulling out a piece of paper and wrote his home number on it. 

"Sure," Liz replied, exchanging phone numbers and addresses with Joe. 

When Joe got home after school, he heard sounds of things being shuffled, and wood being dragged against wood from Frank's room. 

He knocked on the door. "Frank?" 

"Yeah." Came a faint reply. 

"What are you doing?" Joe asked after he opened the door. He saw Frank's desk drawers lay opened. A pile of plastic green electronic boards, and electronic components lay cluttered next to an empty shoebox on the desk. 

"What do you think?" Frank retorted. "I've been searching for that stupid chip." 

"Still nothing?" 

"I would have found something if those goons would be a little more specific." Frank snapped the drawer shut, and sighed in frustration. 

"What about these little things?" Joe asked, scrutinizing the tiny electronic components on the desk. He picked up something that looked like a tiny black three-legged plastic spider. 

"That's not a chip, Joe. It's a transistor." Frank shook his head. "I've had those components for ages. It couldn't be in them." 

"Where's Dad, by the way?" Joe asked, as he rummaged through a small box, that was filled with a coil of wires, screwdrivers, and other tools. 

"He went to pick up Mom from the airport, remember? She's coming back from Scotland. They might be back a little later after dinner." 

"Have you taken your medicine?" Joe suddenly asked. 

"Yes, Joe, thank you for asking. Don't worry about me." 

"I'm just concerned." 

Frank hadn't a chance to reply when the phone in the living room rang. 

"I'll get that." Joe jumped up from his seat and rushed to the phone. 

"Hardy residence," he answered. 

"Joe?" a vaguely familiar voice asked hesitantly. 

"Liz Cornell?" 

"Yes, it's me. I'm at home now. Anyway, I've found something else about the e– " 

Suddenly, Joe heard something crash, like a glass breaking, at the other end of the line. He heard Liz screaming, and the line went dead. 


	7. CHAPTER 7

**CHAPTER 7**

"Come on, Frank! Step on the gas!" Joe urged. 

"You wouldn't want us to get a ticket, would you? And why did you ask me to drive in the first place?" Frank snapped, glancing at the needle in the speedometer that was nearing the speed limit. 

"Because you're a good boy, and the police already knew my reputation with cars. They wouldn't let me go easily if I got stopped," Joe grinned devilishly. 

Frank just shook his head wearily. "Sometimes I wonder why you didn't think ahead like this in other situations." 

"I use it only when you're being too ignorant." 

Frank shook his head again, trying to figure out about his brother. Sometimes he knew his brother very well, but other times, there was an element of surprise that would burst out inconsistently from him.

The van was moving along Shore Road, on its way to Liz's house. When Liz suddenly was cut off from the phone connection, Joe had a feeling something bad had happened to her. He almost had to drag Frank out of the house when he described to his brother about the phone call. 

The sky had turned dark, and Frank flicked on the overhead lights. 

"There's no police watching," Joe retorted. "So, you can speed up." 

"Right. If I get the ticket, I'll tell them I was driving under your influence." 

Soon, they arrived at a residential area without any police car tailing them. Frank slowed down, trying to find Liz's street. 

"There! Lilac Street!" Joe pointed at a street on his right. 

Frank stepped on the brake, and steered the van to the right. "Number 2223. Here we are," he said a minute later, stopping the van in front of a modest and small single-story bungalow. 

"I think we're just in time. Look!" Joe pointed to his side window as he climbed out of the van. 

Frank could see a glimpse of two people in dark clothes, struggling to drag Liz down the driveway. Without wasting time, he climbed out and ran toward the figures in dark clothes. Joe was already tackling with one of them. 

Frank pulled the other man away from Liz. Caught by surprise, the man staggered forward, and almost landed on the concrete pavement. He suddenly lashed out his leg and gave a kick toward Frank. 

Frank sidestepped away instinctively. Then the masked man leaped up to his feet gracefully. Something told Frank that he was facing a pro. The next few minutes he was in defensive mode as he tried to block kicks and punches the man threw at him. 

Meanwhile, Joe ducked when the man he was fighting with threw a punch at him, and he reacted by slamming his fist against his midsection. _Whoa, this guy's built like bricks. Why do I always get the big one?_ The masked man grunted, and staggered slightly, but he launched a hooking punch at Joe's head. Acting faster than his opponent, Joe ducked under the punch and fired off his own attack to the thug's lower ribs. The man momentarily backed away, clutching his side and his eyes flaming with hatred, but he wouldn't give in so easily. A forward kick to a nicely situated pressure point in the thigh caught Joe off guard. Joe felt his knees buckled, and dropped to the ground. The thug continued his assault as he gave a swift karate kick toward Joe until he was thrown against something metallic – a trashcan. The trashcan made a loud clanking sound as it crashed to the ground along with Joe. The noise pierced the peaceful silence like a gunshot. 

"What's going on out there?" a new voice suddenly bellowed from next door. 

Almost immediately, lights started flickering from the neighboring houses. 

"Let's beat it!" the masked man said to his friend, who was still struggling with Frank in a tight lock. 

Frank suddenly was overpowered as the two men grabbed him and threw him until he landed on his back next to Joe. _That's going to be the third bruise in three days. I'm making a record here. _

"Are you all right?" Frank quickly asked Joe as he struggled to get up. He heard sounds of running footsteps, and the sound of a car door being closed. 

"Yeah, I'm going to have a pretty design on my back by tomorrow," Joe grimaced, rubbing his back. 

Frank spotted Liz, standing at the entrance, frozen in shock. "Liz, call the police!" Then he dashed down the driveway. "We still can catch them, Joe!" he urged as he helped his brother along the way. 

Both of them quickly climbed into the van, and started the ignition. By this time, some of the nearby neighbors began coming out of their houses. 

"You've seen where they went?" Joe asked, as his brother maneuvered the van violently toward the street. 

"They went straight on this street," he replied, never leaving his sight from the road. He could see a dark car, racing ahead of them. 

"Hey, I think that's the car!" Joe exclaimed excitedly, pointing to the dark blue Honda Frank had been eyeing. 

"You know the car?" Frank stared at Joe for a moment before turning back to the road. 

"It's the same car that was following me this morning," he told Frank. He explained in gist what had happened that morning. 

"The plate's covered with mud, all right," Frank announced as he stepped on the accelerator. 

The dark sedan continued moving through the center of town. The road was slightly congested at this hour. It was starting to get difficult following the car. 

"It's dinner time. Everyone's out eating," Joe complained. 

"Not now, Joe," Frank retorted. 

"I wasn't thinking about food." 

"Oh." Frank looked sheepish. 

There was a junction ahead of them, and the light had turned yellow. The dark sedan was a couple of cars ahead of them, and it was turning left. And when the van reached in front of the queue, the lights had turned red. Another line of cars started moving through the junction before Frank could make a turn. 

Frank stepped on the brakes. "Missed!" He smacked the steering wheel in frustration. He waited impatiently for the lights to turn green. 

By the time it did, Frank took the same route the dark sedan had done. But he knew by now there was no sign of it. Still, it couldn't hurt to look around for a few more minutes. He checked every nook and corner of the streets, but there was no sign of the car. 

"I guess it's time to go back to Liz's house. The police might already be there," Joe said, a little disappointed. 

When they arrived back at Liz's house, they were surprised to see the quiet and tenebrous scene greeting them. 

"What happened?" Joe asked quizzically. "Where's everyone?" 

"I don't know. I don't like the looks of this." Frank looked grim. 

"Are you sure we haven't suddenly been zapped into Twilight Zone?" Joe glanced at the eerily quiet surrounding. 

Frank parked the van. Liz's house was dark, and there was no sign of her. 

"Let's be careful, okay?" he warned Joe lightly. 

Both of them stealthily climbed out of the van, and jogged toward the house. The door was ajar. Frank suddenly pushed the door open, hoping to surprise any intruder inside the house. But only silence welcomed him. He flicked on the lights. 

"Doesn't look like she lives here all the time," Joe commented, taking in a single brown couch, a coffee table, and an almost empty bookcase. There was a broken vase next to the door. That must have been the sound he had heard on the phone. 

"She just moved here a few weeks ago," Frank explained. He walked through the living room carefully. 

"Liz?" Joe called. 

Silence. 

He went to the back of the hallway, checking every room, while Frank tried to spot any clues the thugs could have left behind. Frank noticed the phone in the kitchen, hanging against the wall. The receiver was still dangling from its hook. 

"She's not here," Joe reported a few minutes later, coming to the kitchen. "I wonder where she went." 

"The question is why did she run away?" Frank corrected. "She seems afraid of something." 

"Look what I've found in her room," Joe said, handing a framed photograph to his brother. 

It was a picture of a vaguely familiar teenage girl with long blond hair, and a middle-aged man, that had a slight resemblance with the girl in the picture. Both of them were smiling happily at the camera. 

"Could be the girl's father," Frank commented thoughtfully. He pulled out the photo from its frame. A small writing in faded black ball pen was inscribed at the back. Liz and Dad, he read silently. It was dated eight years ago. 

"That's Liz! But she's auburn-haired now," Joe exclaimed. 

"She could have dyed her hair. There's nothing wrong with that," Frank told him. "Unless she's trying to disguise herself," he added after a thought. 

"From whom?" 

"That's what we got to find out." 

"Do you think those thugs came back again and kidnapped her?" 

"I don't think so. She had a lot of time to call the police, but she didn't. I think she ran away." They walked back to the living room. 

Joe noticed something near the front door. It was a scrap of paper. He picked it up. 

"Hey, check this out," he called as he smoothed the paper. "What do you make of it?" he asked when Frank came over. He could only read the large lettering as "EDe". It was printed like a letterhead. 

"I know that logo. It's EDevices's," Frank told him. "What a funny coincidence that Phil and I are using their product in our project." 

"Maybe it belongs to you," Joe handed the scrap paper to him. 

"Probably, but I don't remember carrying any letters with me." He pocketed the paper. 

"I think we should go home now. Mom and Dad are probably back by now," Joe suggested. 

Frank nodded. "I just hope Liz's all right. She might have found valuable information about the email virus. We have to think on how to find her next." 

After checking that nothing was out of the ordinary, Frank closed the door, and both of them headed for their van…unaware that a pair of eyes was watching them from afar. 


	8. CHAPTER 8

**CHAPTER 8**

When Joe came down for breakfast the next morning, Frank immediately shoved the newspaper toward him before he could take a bite of the yummy pancakes. His father looked grim. His mother, blond and blue-eyed, was still flapping pancakes on the pan. 

"What?" Joe asked Frank in annoyance, barely giving a glance at the paper. "I'm not eating _that_, if that's what you're suggesting." 

"Look." 

Joe glanced down. "That's Liz Cornell! Wanted by the FBI for industrial espionage!" he gasped in shock as he read the printed material. 

"Only her name isn't Elizabeth Cornell. It's Elizabeth Bishop," Mr. Hardy told him, pointing toward the paper. 

"Hmm, they didn't say much about her, did they?" Joe asked, noticing there was no article on her, except for the 'wanted' poster. 

"Maybe we could check on her through my database," Mr. Hardy told them, pushing his unfinished food away. 

"Boys, don't you know it's unhealthy to digest information before digesting the food first?" Mrs. Hardy scolded them lightly. She took the newspaper before they could read further. 

"Mmm," Joe mumbled, almost forgotten about his breakfast. He poured the maple syrup on his pancakes, making a big letter 'J' on it. 

"I suppose that includes me, too?" Mr. Hardy asked with raised eyebrows. 

"You, too," she told him firmly. "You're not giving the boys a good example." 

"Mmm," Mr. Hardy mumbled, sounding almost like Joe before he took another bite of his pancake. 

"Lucky, you, Frank. I've got to go to school," Joe made a face, swallowing his food. 

Frank couldn't help grinning. "Maybe you could check for Liz in school. See if she's working today," he suggested. 

"What are you going to do in the meantime?" Joe asked back before taking a last swig of his orange juice. 

"Find out about her, and maybe take a look at her house again." He shrugged. 

"Morris hasn't contacted you, has he?" Mr. Hardy asked Frank. 

"No…" Frank replied thoughtfully. "I would have assumed he would have called sooner, considering his urgency." 

"It's like…you're not his priority anymore," Joe added, looking a bit troubled, "ever since last night." 

"But we're still not sure the attempted kidnapping on Liz is connected," Frank pointed out. 

"This doesn't sound good," Mr. Hardy frowned. "If Morris doesn't need Frank anymore, I have a feeling he would plan to eliminate him. He doesn't need witnesses." 

"Gee, that's new," Frank replied sarcastically. "All we have now is 'maybes'. Morris might decide to call today. And I'm still not getting nearer finding that chip." He let out his breath in frustration. 

"If Liz is somehow connected with this, we need to find her first. She might know something about the chip," Mr. Hardy told them. 

Joe sighed heavily. "I'd better go to school now. Why do big brothers always have the fun?" he mumbled as he walked toward the kitchen door. 

"Very funny," Frank said in mock anger. 

"Have fun, honey," Mrs. Hardy told Joe, ruffling his hair affectionately. 

"Aww, Mom," Joe groaned before giving her a quick peck on the cheek. After saying goodbyes, he left the room. 

When Joe left, Frank and his father quickly finished their breakfast before heading to Mr. Hardy's study. Half an hour later, after searching through his database on his computer, they had learned something about Elizabeth Bishop. Frank didn't expect to find out she used to be working at EDevices as embedded system programmer for five years before her boss, Mr. Garcia, fired her when he caught her red-handed for industrial espionage. 

"That makes perfect sense…the FBI…Boston…execution style murders," Mr. Hardy murmured thoughtfully. 

"What is it?" Frank asked eagerly. 

"Do you remember what I told you yesterday about the four murders in Boston?" 

Frank nodded. 

"Well, all of them were EDevices's employees." 

"Is there something going on in that company?" 

"We don't have anything on them, yet. Hmm…" he stopped for a moment when something on the screen caught his eyes. "There's an unsolved case on Elizabeth Bishop's father, Eugene Bishop," Mr. Hardy told Frank when he found another file in his computer. 

"What about it?" 

"He's been missing for eight years, and the police still don't know whether he's still alive or not," he reported. "He didn't come back home from work on the day he disappeared." 

That's probably about the time after the picture was taken, Frank thought, remembering the photograph that he had seen last night. _It must have been devastating losing a father like that._

"Looks like Mr. Bishop's profession seemed to have an influence on his daughter, too," his father commented, still reading from the monitor. 

"He also worked as embedded system programmer?" 

"More towards system software programmer…more or less, it's something to do with programming." 

A sudden ringing of the phone almost made Frank jumped. He quickly picked it up. 

"It's me," Joe said from the other side before Frank could say anything. 

"What's up, Joe?" Frank was slightly relieved it wasn't Morris. 

"I've checked for Liz at her office. She's not here." 

"I guess by now, everyone's probably had read the newspaper. She would be like sitting duck if she comes for work," Frank remarked thoughtfully. Then he quickly told Joe what he had found out about Liz. 

"Maybe that scrap paper you found belongs to her, after all," Joe pointed out.

"I would guess so," Frank agreed. He'd almost forgotten about that. 

After hanging up the phone, he turned to his father. "I think I'd better go over to Liz's house. I might have missed something last night," he told him. 

Mr. Hardy nodded. "Be careful," he told his son seriously. 

"I know," Frank replied before he left the room. 

When Frank arrived at Liz's house a few minutes later, he couldn't help feeling he was being watched as he walked up the driveway. 

He glanced around casually. Everything looked normal. Some of the nearby neighbors were chatting with one another at the lawn, oblivious to their surrounding, and a few were getting into their cars for work. There were a few cars parked on the side of the road, but none of them was the sedan he had seen last night. _Maybe I'm getting paranoid. _

Shrugging to himself, he made his way to the front door. He knocked first. As he expected, no one was answering the door. He turned the doorknob slowly. It was unlocked. _Someone's been here. _He knew because he had the door locked last night. 

Cautiously, he stepped inside the house. He glanced around the slightly dim room. The curtains were drawn close. Except for the furniture, all of Liz's belongings were gone. _She must have come back again last night._

Before he could think further, the sound of footsteps outside the door made him turn. He tensed when he saw two men in dark suits stood there with impassive look on their faces. One was dark-haired, and the other was blond haired, with a slight pimply skin. Both of them looked as if they were in their early thirties. 

"Mr. Hardy?" the dark-haired one said. 

"Yes?" Frank swallowed uneasily. _I'm doomed._

"I'm Special Agent Karlinger, and this is," he pointed to the blond man, "Special Agent Jackson. We're from the FBI." They pulled out their badges. 

"You expect me to believe you? Where's Special Agent Morris?" 

The two FBI agents exchanged puzzled looks. "I don't think the FBI has assigned this Special Agent Morris to question you." 

"And what do you want from me? And how do you know I'll be here?" Frank asked curiously. For some reason, he was convinced that these guys were the _real _FBI agents. 

"We made a tail on you. I'm afraid you need to follow us to the station. We believe you've been conspiring with Elizabeth Bishop for industrial espionage." 


	9. CHAPTER 9

**CHAPTER 9**

"Anyone home?" Joe Hardy called for the second time when he got back from school. 

He went to his room and dropped his backpack before going to Frank's room. It was empty. Then he went down to his father's study. Empty. 

"Mom? Aunt Gertrude?" 

Silence. 

"Where's everyone?" he wondered out loud to himself. 

Then he went to check the answering machine. No messages. 

He sat behind his father's desk, and began thinking. Frank would have to be back by now after going to Liz's house, he thought. A sudden apprehension went over him. _Could Morris have kidnapped him again?_ _But Frank doesn't have the chip, yet. Does he?_

A flash of movement outside the window caught his eyes. Joe jumped out of his chair and went to the windows. Someone was lurking outside the house, crouching behind the thick shrubs. He couldn't make out the face. The person was wearing a black hooded sweatshirt, and jeans – and carried a black backpack. 

Joe waited a little longer, wanting to find out what the person was doing. After a few moments, the lurker came out behind the shrubs, still crouching, before dashing toward the back of the house. 

Joe quickly ran to the kitchen. He flung the door open, surprising the person, who was crouching in front of the door. 

The person scrambled to his feet before running away, but Joe was already leaping out, and tackled him to the ground. 

"Let go! Joe, it's just me!" the person cried, struggling against Joe's grip. 

Joe stopped, and stared at the person in shock. "Liz?" 

He quickly helped her to get up, realizing she wasn't going to run away. She brushed off the dirt on her clothes, but still hadn't removed the hood. 

"I need to talk to you, but not here," she said casually, but Joe could detect the urgency in her voice. 

"Okay, come inside," Joe told her, motioning toward the door. 

Both of them entered the door in silence. 

"Do you want anything to eat, or drink?" he offered. 

"No, thanks." She was sitting down at the kitchen table. 

"So, what's this all about?" he asked curiously. 

"I need your help," she began nervously. "I heard you and your brother are detectives – and your Dad, too," she added quickly. 

"Is it about you being a suspect of industrial espionage?" he guessed. 

She nodded quickly. "But I didn't do it. He set me up," she rushed on. 

"Whoa, slow down. What are you talking about?" Joe held up his hand to signal her. 

Liz took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, massaging her temple. "It all started a year ago. I used to work with EDevices in Boston for five years. Anyway, last year, I was involved in a project. My boss, Mr. Garcia told us…I mean, all five of us that were involved in the project, to design a prototype for his client. We were told the project should be…um, hush-hush, that sort of thing." 

Joe nodded silently. 

"So, anyway, Craig, my other colleague, and I were assigned for the embedded programming part, because that's where our expertise were." 

"Your boss didn't tell you who his client was?" Joe prompted. 

"He just told us it was a request from the military." Liz shook her head. "We only were given the outlines, the milestones, and the specifications of the project from our client." 

"What are you supposed to design?" Joe asked. 

"A chip." 

"A chip?" Joe breathed. Warning bells rang in his head. "What does the chip supposed to do?" 

Liz hadn't a chance to reply when the shrill of a phone broke the conversation, startling Liz. 

"Wait here," Joe said and rushed to answer the phone. 

"Hey, Joe. It's Phil. Is Frank in?" 

"No, I don't know where he is." He heard Phil muttered something. 

"Okay, can you do me a favor?" 

"What kind of favor?" 

"Could you bring the project board that I've given Frank here. I've got to do some tinkering." 

"Gee, I don't think Frank had done anything on it, yet," Joe hedged. Then he could hear some voices in the background. 

"Don't worry about it. I just wanted to demonstrate how the propeller works to someone." 

"Okay. I'll be there in five minutes," Joe promised and hung up the phone. Then he walked back to the kitchen. 

"I've got an errand to run. I think you should follow me," Joe told Liz. After what had happened last night, he wasn't going to let Liz ran away again. 

"Where are we going?" she asked anxiously. 

"Phil's house," he replied and went upstairs to Frank's room. He headed for the desk, where a pile of electronic boards lay on top. Joe took one board from the top of the pile and placed it into an empty electrostatic-proof bag. Frank had told him once not to carry unprotected board anywhere because it might damage the components on the board, or to ground himself from any electricity that might flowing in his body before handling the board. 

"Let's go," Joe told Liz a minute later when he descended the stairs. 

Both of them piled up inside the van after Joe had locked the house. 

"You told me you worked as an…embedded system programmer?" Joe asked, starting a conversation as he pulled the van out of the driveway. 

"It's some sort of hardware programming. I got interested in programming after I've watched my Dad worked on his computer – he was a system software programmer," she explained. There was a wistful look on her face when she talked about her father. 

"So, you only deal with…uh, microprocessors?" Joe wasn't sure if that was the right term. 

Liz laughed. "You got that right for someone who isn't into electronics. We deal with anything that uses microprocessors – not for general-purpose type," she explained. 

"What's the difference with your Dad's work?" he couldn't help asking. 

"He wrote programs that manage the operating systems for a computer. I think you get the picture," she told him. 

"Uh-huh, but you seem can do both when you worked at school," Joe commented. 

"Hey, I grew up with my Dad. So, I learned a thing or two," she gave a wry grin. 

"I…I've heard of your father's disappearance," he began uncomfortably, unsure on how to approach a subject that could be sensitive to her. 

"So, maybe the police thinks he's already dead, but I'm still not going to give up searching for him," she replied. 

Joe was shocked to hear the determination sound in her voice. She still believed her father was alive after all these years. But then he could understand why she wouldn't give up. _Should I not give up, too?_

"What do you think happened to him?" he asked gently. 

"I don't know," she shrugged. "All I know, he went to work as usual – nothing peculiar about that, I went to school and came back like always. By dinnertime, he still hadn't come back. He never missed his dinner. So, I got worried and called his office, but his colleague told me he left the office as usual." 

"He didn't have any enemies, did he?" 

"Not that I know of." 

A minute later, they arrived in front of Phil's house. Joe parked the van in the driveway. 

Phil answered the door when Joe rang the doorbell. He looked surprise when he noticed Liz. 

"What's she doing here?" Phil asked quizzically. 

Liz looked slightly nervous. 

"It's a long story, Phil," Joe replied. "Anyway, here's the board." He handed the black plastic bag to his friend. 

"Would you like to come in or something? Bruce is here, too," he told them. 

"Bruce?" Joe knitted his brows. 

"Bruce Prescott. He's the new guy in my class," Phil quickly explained. 

"Oh, _that_ Bruce. Sure, why not," Joe said before Phil led them to the basement, where he had converted into his own lab. 

"Hi, Bruce," Joe greeted the tall boy casually. 

"Hi," Bruce replied back with a smile. His smile faltered when he caught sight of Liz. "Hey, aren't you the same one in the paper today?" he asked her. "Elizabeth Bishop?" 

Joe could see Liz stiffened uncomfortably. He turned to Bruce. "Don't worry, Bruce. She won't bite you," he said, trying to lighten up the mood. 

"Well, okay, if you say so," Bruce said, still looking doubtful. 

"Wow! What a nice setup!" Liz exclaimed when she walked around Phil's lab that was filled with a couple of terminals, a few soldering equipments, tools, and other gizmos. "You even have Unix on your system." 

"Uh, yeah, I guess," Phil mumbled. He looked as if he wasn't sure what to do with a compliment. He just looked down, taking his time pulling out the board from the package. 

Joe couldn't help chuckling. 

"Is that the board?" Bruce asked with interest, and carefully picked it up from Phil's hand. 

"Oh, but Joe, I think –" Phil couldn't continue when the room suddenly grew hot and filled with smoke. 

Liz looked alarmed. "The room's on fire!" 


	10. CHAPTER 10

**CHAPTER 10**

Frank Hardy was trying to gather his thoughts when the two FBI agents brought him in to Bayport PD. He was still thinking even when they started questioning him in the interrogation room. 

Frank still remembered the impassive look on Chief Collig's face before he entered the room. He had a feeling the chief was having a hard time believing that he was involved in this whole mess – even though Frank still hadn't a clue what was going on. 

As he glanced at the one-way mirror, he wondered who else was watching the interrogation from the other side. 

A puff of cigarette smoke blew toward his face brought his thoughts back down to earth. He scowled at Agent Jackson who was smoking the cigarette. 

"How long have you known Ms. Bishop?" the dark-haired Agent Karlinger asked Frank sternly. 

His partner, Jackson, started pacing around the interrogation room, listening quietly. A trail of smoke followed behind him whenever he walked, and smoked. A tape recorder was rolling in the middle of the table, recording everything of the interrogation. 

"I just met her a few days ago in school," Frank replied calmly. 

"Are you sure?" Jackson turned to ask. His dark blue eyes were looking levelly at him. He was slightly muscular than his partner. 

"Yes." Frank didn't even blink when he looked at the agent. 

Jackson studied him carefully before turning to Karlinger. 

"Did you see her yesterday?" Karlinger asked. 

Frank could tell there was something strange in the question, but he couldn't point it out exactly. "As a matter of fact I did," he said, and told him about the phone call Joe had received from her last night, and the attempted kidnapping on Liz. 

The two agents exchanged looks. 

"So, your brother was there, too?" Karlinger asked. 

Frank nodded. 

"And where is he now?" 

"He's in school. Where do you think he should be?" 

"And why aren't you in school?" 

"I was…uh, suspended." 

There was an 'A-ha!' look on Jackson's expression. It was as if he had concluded that Frank was guilty for everything. 

"So, You don't know Ms. Bishop…personally?" Karlinger prodded. He sat opposite of Frank. 

"What do you mean by that?" Frank narrowed his eyes. 

Jackson handed Karlinger a manila envelope. The latter agent opened the flap and took out a large black-and-white photograph. 

"And how do you explain this?" he asked, shoving the photo toward Frank. "And don't tell me it's fake, because I took it myself last night. Chief Collig can vouch for that." 

Frank was shocked at the picture. It was the picture of him and Liz, standing in front of a motel room. Liz seemed to be handing Frank a wad of bills. He could even see Benjamin Franklin's face on each bill. "You mean, Chief Collig, too, was there when you took the photograph?" he asked in surprised. 

"Yes." 

Frank glanced at the photo with a sickening feeling in his stomach. "I would never –" 

"What? You didn't meet her in that motel room last night?" 

"Of course not," Frank told them firmly. "The only logical explanation is that someone's been impersonating me – and her." 

_But why?_ Frank wondered silently. Judging from the picture, it had been a very convincing disguise by those two impersonators. And it was a bit too much of a coincidence that Liz was almost kidnapped last night. Was someone trying to throw off the FBI by giving them false leads? False leads from what? 

"What time was this taken?" Frank suddenly asked. 

"Between seven-thirty, and eight last night," Karlinger replied. 

_The same time Liz was almost kidnapped. _

"How did you know that 'I' was there last night?" Frank asked, nodding toward the picture. 

Jackson frowned, putting out his cigarette into an ashtray that was on the table. "We've got an anonymous tip." 

"And how long have you known that Ms. Bishop is in Bayport?" he continued asking. 

"Look, we're the one who's asking questions here – not you," Jackson snapped, banging his fist on the table, shaking everything on it. 

"I don't understand why you have to question me twice. Why didn't you ask me about Ms. Bishop earlier when you 'kidnapped' me last time?" Frank pointed out sarcastically. "Where's Agent Morris?" 

Jackson gave a questioning glance at Karlinger, who frowned thoughtfully. 

"As we have said earlier, this is the first time we heard of your involvement in the case. We didn't send an 'Agent Morris' to question you before this," Karlinger replied. 

Frank had suspected as much that Agent Morris was a hoax. He just needed the confirmation from these two agents. 

"And who is this Agent Morris?" Jackson asked. 

"I don't know." 

"You don't know?" the agent looked at him skeptically. 

"I said –" 

"I heard what you said," Jackson interrupted rudely. 

Frank couldn't help feeling irked by this agent. His patience was slowly wearing thin each minute. He was glad Joe wasn't here, or else the man would have two black eyes by now. 

"And what do you know?" Karlinger asked calmly. His dark eyes bore deeply on him, studying curiously. 

Frank sighed wearily. How should he begin? He didn't even know the right side up of this whole case. He needed some time alone to sort everything that had been going on lately. 

"All I know … this Agent Morris was asking about some chip. He thought I have it, which I don't, I think," he answered. 

"A chip?" Karlinger leaned forward, suddenly looking interested. 

Frank nodded. 

"Is that how you got all those wounds? From Agent Morris?" he pointed toward Frank's bandaged wrists, and the wounds on his face and arms. 

"Uh-huh. You know about this chip?" he started asking. 

"And what do you know about this chip?" Jackson asked, ignoring Frank's similar question. 

"I wouldn't ask you if I knew the answer, would I?" Frank retorted. 

The agent glared at Frank. 

"Hold it, you two," Karlinger warned them when Frank and Jackson began shooting daggers at each other. 

The door suddenly burst opened, interrupting the tense atmosphere. A woman in her late twenties, wearing formal gray pantsuit, entered the room. She had shoulder-length dark hair, and hazel eyes. There was an air of authority on her when she entered the room. Everyone grew silent as they watched the newcomer walked in. 

Karlinger stood up from his chair and confronted the woman. "Excuse me, but we're in the middle of a federal investigation here. And you're violating our –" 

"Not for long," she interjected crisply, pulling out her wallet. "I'm Agent O'Connor from the CIA, and I'm taking over the investigation from now on." 


	11. CHAPTER 11

**CHAPTER 11**

Frank Hardy frowned. This case was turning out bigger than he had expected if the CIA decided to butt in. How could a small thing such as being suspended from school, turned so big? He sighed. Why couldn't life be simpler for him? 

Jackson marched to O'Connor. "Now, just wait a minute –" 

"_You_ wait a minute," O'Connor snapped to the agent. 

The agent reddened, a stark contrast against his blond hair. He clamped his mouth shut. Frank had to suppress his grin when he watched Jackson's reaction. He had a feeling he wasn't used being ordered by a woman.

"May I ask who gave the authority to give this case to you, Agent O'Connor?" Karlinger asked levelly. 

"We have a source that told us he could be a possible link to help us in counterintelligence. It's our jurisdiction now," she pointed to Frank. He could only listened in shocked silence. _What kind of source does she have?_

Karlinger looked stunned. "There must be a mistake." 

"Looks can be deceiving, Agent…" 

"Karlinger," he supplied. 

"Agent Karlinger, I would suggest you and your partner leave the room, and leave the matters to me," she told them tersely. 

"I can't do that without seeing a letter of authority from you," Karlinger replied firmly. 

Frank sighed wearily. This was going to be a long day. He was starting to get bored with this jurisdiction thing. Why couldn't they work together? Wouldn't that solve the case quicker? 

O'Connor pulled out a piece of paper and showed it to the two agents. While Karlinger and Jackson read the letter, Frank turned to the CIA agent. 

"Would you mind telling me what's this all about? What makes you think I can help you?" Frank asked her. 

"You don't have to know everything," she snapped. 

Frank was almost reaching his patience limit. She was worse than Agent Jackson. He noticed the two FBI agents were listening. And from the curious look on their faces, Frank had a feeling they, too, wanted to know the information that she had found. 

"Is this about that stupid chip?" Frank couldn't help retorting. 

O'Connor narrowed her eyes at him. There was a look of faint recognition on her face when he mentioned the word 'chip'. Why was everyone so obsessed with this chip? 

"What do you know about this chip?" she asked him curtly. 

"Why don't you tell me? I have a right to know what's going on here," Frank answered with the same tone as hers. 

"So, you really don't know anything about this chip?" Karlinger suddenly asked with a curious look. 

"No." 

O'Connor whipped her head to look at Karlinger. 

"If you don't mind, this is my investigation now," she snapped. 

"Who cares about this darned jurisdiction!" Karlinger tossed the letter to her. "Maybe the kid really doesn't know anything. But I think he has a right to know what's going on if you're going to pressure him with something he couldn't have known." 

"I won't allow it," O'Connor declared firmly. 

"We believe this chip was made by EDevices. A request from their client, who's also involved in underworld activities," Karlinger told Frank, ignoring O'Connor's hostile glare. 

"What's so special about it?" Frank asked. 

"We don't know much…just bits and pieces. This chip can gather any information on a computer and secretly transmits it directly to a particular receiver – that is, to the person who had planted it on that computer," he went on. "The user of the computer wouldn't even notice someone's reading their data – even if it's protected by firewall." 

"But if there's no cable connection, how could it be transmitting information? We're talking about a chip here," Frank said. 

"We don't know how's it done for now, but we've learned it's possible to be transmitting information even if you're not connected through the usual network cable connection," Karlinger told him. 

"_Agent Karlinger_," O'Connor warned. 

"So, you see why we have to find it before it falls into the wrong hands," the FBI agent said, still ignoring O'Connor's warning. 

"I think that's enough," she tried again. Her voice hardened. 

"But what's this got to do with me, or Elizabeth Bishop?" Frank continued asking. 

"Mr. Hardy, I'm doing the questioning here," she warned him. 

"Ms. Bishop was one of the people who was involved in the project to make the chip. Her boss caught her red-handed trying to steal the chip from his office. Then she was fired, and never seen again until recently," Karlinger answered. "And as for you, the lead came from the phone tip last night." 

"All right, you two, get out of here," O'Connor ordered the two FBI agents, and started pulling out her gun and trained it on them. 

However, Karlinger looked slightly amused by her stunt. "What would your superior say when he finds out about your uncooperative manner?" he smirked. 

"Uncooperative manner?" she echoed. Her eyes flashed angrily at him. "I'll show you who's been uncooperative here." 

The door burst open again. And this time Frank couldn't help feeling relieved when he saw his father entered the room with Chief Collig at his side. 

"I think that's enough for now," Mr. Hardy told O'Connor firmly. "I'm taking my son back. Besides, we have an emergency here." 

"Mr. Hardy, sit down!" O'Connor ordered. 

"Me?" Mr. Hardy asked, raising an eyebrow. 

"I mean, _you_," she pointed at Frank. 

"Enough everyone. This is my station," Chief Collig thundered. "I'm letting Frank out." 

"Chief Collig, I haven't started with the interrogation," O'Connor protested. 

"I think you already have," Mr. Hardy put in simply. He pulled out the tape from the recorder on the table and handed it to her. "Listen to this, and you're done." Then he turned to his son. "Let's go, Frank." 

The Hardys and Chief Collig walked out of the room leaving the indignant-looking O'Connor. 

"Where are we going?" Frank asked curiously. 

"We've just got a 911 phone call from the Cohen's house. There's been a fire," his father told him tensely. "It was arson." 

_What on earth is going on?_ Frank wondered. 

As they passed an observation room, Frank caught sight of someone familiar standing inside, talking to a police officer. _No, that couldn't be him. _But he knew his eyes weren't playing tricks on him. If he was right, he just saw Gray Man in that room. 


	12. CHAPTER 12

**CHAPTER 12**

Joe Hardy coughed a little from the smoke. Flames were already spreading on one side of the room, near the door – the only door to their escape. He tried to ignore the scorching heat that was starting to engulf him. "Come on, we've got to get out of here!" Joe told the others. 

"The door's locked!" Bruce exclaimed in panic, tugging at the knob. 

Joe turned to Phil. "Is there another exit from here?" 

Phil shook his head. "I think we can use the fire extinguisher in the meantime." He pointed to a black metallic extinguisher. "I use it for electrical fires only." 

"You take the extinguisher, while I try to open the door," Joe told him and walked to the door. His eyes were starting to water. He tore a piece of cloth from his shirt and wrapped it around his face. He signaled the others to do the same. 

Then Joe gave a swift hard kick toward the door. It broke into splintered wood, sending the door gaping wide enough for a person to go through. 

"Everyone out!" he urged, letting Liz through the door first, followed by Bruce, and Phil, who was still carrying the extinguisher with him. The smoke was getting thicker, making them harder to breathe. But it eased a little when they were out of the basement. 

Suddenly, a couple of men in black clothes and ski masks came out of nowhere and grabbed Liz, who was just about to rush out of the front door. She gave a scream, struggling against the men. 

"Hey!" Joe rushed over and pulled one of them away from her. 

Bruce and Phil, who were just behind Liz, grabbed the other thug. 

Joe sent a blow toward the thug, but the person evaded easily and returned with a karate-kick toward his midsection. Joe grunted, and staggered backward. He lost his footing and stumbled to the ground. The thug took the opportunity to help his friend, who was struggling between Phil and Bruce. He pushed Phil away. 

Phil landed beside Joe just as his friend was about to get up. 

"They're taking Bruce, too!" Phil cried and pointing toward Bruce, still in a scuffle with the thug. 

"We've got to save them!" Joe quickly helped Phil and ran again toward the two thugs. They were already moving toward the street. Liz was kicking and struggling, that the thug had a hard time controlling her. Bruce was held back in a chokehold against the second man – paralyzing his movement. 

Joe almost reached them when Liz suddenly broke free as she stomped her foot on her assailant's foot before running away to a safe distance. 

A familiar dark sedan suddenly pulled to a stop in front of the house. The two men dived into the backseat, bringing Bruce with them before it sped off. 

"I'll call the police and the fire department!" Phil said. "Don't worry I can try to put out the fire," he told Joe, knowing that Joe wanted to follow the car. 

"Thanks, Phil," he said gratefully. 

"What about me?" Liz asked worriedly. 

Joe hesitated. "Okay, come with me," he told her finally, before running toward the van. He stopped in front of the van when he noticed something. 

"Shoot!" He kicked at the van in frustration. All of the tires were slashed! 

"What's wrong?" Liz asked curiously when she arrived at his side. 

"I guess we won't be doing any racing," he said wryly, pointing at the tires. 

"But what about Bruce?" Liz looked at him worriedly. 

"We have to report it to the police. There's nothing we can do now," he told her, looking frustrated. "But I can't understand why they took him." 

They walked back to the Cohen's house. By this time, they could hear the siren wailing and coming closer. 

"I'd better call the tow truck, too," Joe told Phil when they saw him putting out the fire with the extinguisher. He explained about the van when Phil gave him a puzzled look. 

Joe glanced at the house. The fire was already spreading to the kitchen, but Phil had almost got it under control. It didn't cause too much damage. 

"There goes your project, Phil. Bruce was holding your board when he was kidnapped," Joe told him ruefully. 

"Don't worry about the board. I was about to tell you something about it before the fire started," Phil replied. 

"What is it?" Joe asked. 

"You've brought the wrong board." 

*** 

When Frank and his father arrived at the Cohen's house, the place was bustling with activities – from the police to the firemen, working together to put out the remaining fire, and controlling the crowd. 

"Frank! What are you doing here?" Phil suddenly appeared in front of them. 

"What happened?" Frank asked worriedly. 

"I don't know exactly. One minute we were in the room, and the next minute there was a fire, and robbers." 

"We? Robbers?" Frank looked blank.

"Robbers…kidnappers, whatever you're going to call it," Phil replied wearily. "Anyway, Joe and Liz were here. You just missed them." 

"Joe? Liz? What were they doing here? What _is_ going on?" Frank asked exasperatedly. 

"Oh, sorry," Phil said sheepishly before starting to tell the Hardys what had really happened. 

"Hmmm, I bet those kidnappers are connected to Morris. I wonder why they aren't pursuing you anymore? Even though I'm glad about it," Mr. Hardy spoke to Frank thoughtfully after Phil had done explaining. 

"Well, whatever it is, I think we need to speak to Joe. He could have known something," Frank suggested. 

His father nodded in agreement. 

"I guess we'd better find Joe," Frank told Phil. "Glad to see you're all right, Phil." 

After saying goodbyes, the Hardys headed back to their home. 

*** 

Joe Hardy and Liz were just about to enter Mr. Hardy's study when they heard the sound of the front door being unlocked.

"Joe! What is going on?" Frank immediately asked as soon as he saw his brother in the living room. He stopped when he saw Liz. 

"It's a long story," Joe said wearily. He realized he needed a bath badly. Everything about him had the scent of smoke. "Where've you been?" 

"It's a long story, too. I just came back from Phil's, and he told me what had happened," Frank quickly explained. 

"So, you must be Ms. Bishop," Mr. Hardy acknowledged when he saw the woman. 

"Y-Yes," she stammered. 

"Dad, she needs our help," Joe told them quickly. 

"Let's go to my office, and we'll talk there," Mr. Hardy suggested. 

All of them entered Mr. Hardy's study. 

"Okay, maybe you start first," Joe suggested to Frank after they were seated comfortably in their seats. 

"I was at the station – interrogated by the FBI," his brother replied. 

"That Morris guy again?" Joe asked in surprise. 

"Nope. This time it's the real McCoy," Frank said and started telling about the interrogation, but he didn't tell them about seeing the Gray Man – especially not in front of Liz, and their father. Gray Man was their contact to the Network, a secret government intelligence agency – an agency that he and Joe sometimes worked for. 

"So, that's basically it," Frank finished. "So, what's your story?" 

"Someone tried to kidnap Liz today, but ended up taking Bruce instead," Joe replied. 

"But why would they take Bruce?" Frank wondered out loud. 

Joe shrugged. "Beats me." 

"I think it's time we hear from Ms. Bishop. How did this all begin? We've only got some explanation from the FBI," Mr. Hardy spoke up, looking at Liz. 

"Okay," she hedged, slightly nervous. "Like I've been telling Joe earlier, I used to work in EDevices," she began. Then she went on with her story like the one she had told Joe. 

"So, all five of you knew about this chip?" Mr. Hardy asked suddenly. 

"Yes, but I'm the only one left knowing about it now, if you don't count my boss," Liz replied sadly. 

"What happened to the others?" Frank asked. 

"Murdered. I've heard from the news that time. All of them were shot dead in their homes," she suddenly looked distraught. "I was away from my home when it happened – going for a vacation in LA. We were given a week break after the project had completed. 

When I found out about it, I called Mr. Garcia, my boss, and he told me to return to Boston right away – the police wanted to question all the EDevices's employees. So, I got back as soon as I could." 

"So, the police questioned you?" Mr. Hardy asked. 

Liz nodded. "They told me that I might need a police protection – I'm the only one left alive from that project. I agreed with their suggestion." 

"Then what's this about you – being caught red-handed by your boss?" Joe asked curiously. 

"I'm coming to that," she told him. "Anyway, I went back to work as usual the day after I talked to the police. Mr. Garcia wasn't in his office when I went to see him that day. Then I saw something on his desk…a letter. The letter mentioned about the chip – so I got…um…kind of curious. I read the letter. It was from the client who requested it. The real client." 

"The military?" Joe prompted. 

"Do you know who it was?" Frank asked at the same time. 

"It was Mr. Massalski," she paled. 

Mr. Hardy drew in a sharp breath, and accidentally knocked over his pen to the floor. "I haven't heard that name in years. Too close…" he muttered under his breath. He bent down to pick up his pen. 

"Who is Mr. Massalski?" Joe asked in puzzlement. He was also puzzled by his father's bizarre behavior. 

"Some people in Boston knows him – I mean, he's known for his underworld activities," Liz told them. 

"A crime lord," Frank supplied. 

"He's also suspected of having connections with terrorists," Mr. Hardy added. 

Joe tensed when he heard the word terrorists. It often reminded him of the Assassin – a terrorist organization that had Iola Morton killed in a car bombing. That was one of the reason they worked with the Network in the first place. 

"You know Massalski?" Frank asked his father curiously. 

"We've crossed path a few times," Mr. Hardy replied vaguely. 

"Okay, then what happened?" Joe asked, turning back to the subject. 

"Well, I was shocked by the discovery. It felt like I was working for Massalski," she told them, looking guilty. "So, I did something pretty stupid. I saw the box where the chip was put in. I exchanged the chip with another chip. That was when Mr. Garcia caught me while I was placing the second chip in the box. So, I guess from Mr. Garcia's point of view, it looked like I was taking it out instead of putting it in." 

"And where's the real chip now?" Mr. Hardy asked. 

Liz gulped. "I don't know." 


	13. CHAPTER 13

**CHAPTER 13**

"You don't know where the chip is?" Joe asked incredulously. 

Liz tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously. "I don't know what happened to it. I remember I placed it inside another box – near the production counter. I was afraid of getting caught, so I just put it on a box that was nearest to me at that time. I left it for a while, and when I came back, the box was gone," she said in a rush. 

Frank looked a bit skeptical. "Do you remember what box it was? Any labels on them?" he asked. 

"Just a small plastic box where you always put a microchip inside before you ship it to your customer. I think…" she closed her eyes to concentrate, "I think the label was for a DSP chip." 

"DSP?" Joe prompted. 

"Digital Signal Processing," Frank supplied. "Funny, you should say that. Phil and I recently bought a DSP chip from EDevices for the science project." 

"You know what, Frank?" Joe said with a sudden excited glint in his eyes, "Could you bring your board down?" 

"Look, Joe, I know what you're thinking," Frank said, still skeptical about the whole idea. "I think that's a bit _too_ far-fetched. Phil and I would have noticed the difference." 

"Maybe he's right, Frank," Mr. Hardy told him. "It wouldn't hurt to check." 

Liz nodded. "You probably wouldn't notice it, since we based the design using a DSP prototype," she added. "That's what made this chip different. It disguised its real function. And I also…uh, sort of altered the label on it." 

"All right, all right. I'll get it," Frank grumbled with a resigned sigh. He stood up and left the room. 

He came back a few minutes later with the board. He showed it to Liz. She began scrutinizing each components on the board. 

Her eyes suddenly widened when she recognized one component. "That's the chip!" 

"But how's that possible? You can see the printed label on the chip," Frank argued. "See it printed here EDSP123. That's the right product we have chosen." 

"No, it's EDSP12B," Liz corrected him. "The letter B is missing that straight line. I scratched it out to disguise it. It's a Beta prototype." 

"I'd say she's right, Frank," Joe remarked as he took the board and looked at it through a magnifying glass. "But how could Morris know that Frank has it?" 

"Mr. Garcia must have noticed it was exchanged," Mr. Hardy told them. 

"He set me up with that industrial espionage accusation," Liz told them. "He might be working with Mr. Massalski." 

"And how did he or Morris know that Frank was going to buy it?" Joe asked again. 

"Buying a chip like this one is not the same as going to a store where you pick one and put it in a shopping cart," Frank explained. "You have to order it directly from the company through a catalog. This is not something people buy everyday." 

"So, Mr. Garcia just have to check who bought the chip recently from the database," Joe finally nodded in understanding. 

"But we have to test the chip to make sure if it's the right one," Mr. Hardy suggested. 

"Actually there's something I haven't figure out when Agent Karlinger explained to me about its function," Frank began. "How could it send information if there's no network connection?" 

"Ah, that's where the Bluetooth protocol comes in. Are you familiar with that protocol?" Liz asked him.

Frank nodded. "I've read a little about it from a journal. That means you can transmit the information via wireless connection, like a radio transmitter," he said thoughtfully. "Then it would need to use cellular networks to do that." 

Liz looked impressed. "Right, that's why I couldn't let someone like Massalski get this chip, and started to manufacture it by himself. I don't think you'd like to know the consequences if this chip is installed in commercial computers secretly." She looked grim. 

"Then the user unknowingly transmits information from his computer to Massalski," Frank concluded. Now, he could understand why the FBI and CIA were so gung ho about this chip. If someone placed this chip inside computers of government offices, or the White House, or the CIA, an enemy could read all the classified information like a book. 

"Then those thugs that tried to kidnap Liz today must have already figured out the chip is on the board," Joe pointed out. "That's why they took Bruce. He was holding the board – except it was the wrong board." 

Frank frowned. "Maybe, but something isn't right here," he said thoughtfully. 

"Would you mind sharing your idea?" Joe asked impatiently. 

"It's probably nothing. Just forget it," he told him with a dismissal wave. 

Joe sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. 

"We still need to figure out where they had taken Bruce," Mr. Hardy spoke up. "If those kidnappers realized they have the wrong board, I'm not sure they're going to release Bruce and search for the chip again, or trade him with the chip." 

"Then come on, let's test that blasted thing!" Joe urged, getting impatient. He was anxious for action. 

"Hold on, Joe. Can you help me search something from my room?" Frank suddenly asked him. 

Joe looked at him strangely. If he had interpreted correctly, Frank was making an excuse to talk to him alone. 

"Okay," he replied slowly as Frank pulled him by his elbow and headed out of the room. His brother led him to his room. 

"All right, what's up?" Joe demanded, crossing his arms across his chest. 

"You might think I'm crazy, but I saw Gray Man today," Frank told him. 

"Gray Man?" Joe exclaimed. 

"Shhh!" 

"Where did you see him?" Joe asked, lowering his voice. 

"At the police station. I think he disguised himself as an FBI or a CIA agent." 

"Do you think the Assassin is involved in this?" Joe asked, suddenly looking tensed. "You know whenever we see him, the Assassin is always around the corner." 

"I don't know, Joe," Frank sighed. "This case is too confusing. There's a lot of missing links." 

"I know what you mean. I'm not sure if Liz's father's disappearance isn't connected either," Joe admitted. 

"What about her father's disappearance?" Frank asked suddenly. 

Joe quickly relayed to him Liz's story. 

"It could be a different matter completely," Frank commented. 

"I guess so. Now, come on, let's turn on your computer and test that chip," Joe suddenly changed the subject. 

"Can't do it with this one. Need Phil's computer," Frank shook his head. 

"Why not?" 

"Common computers like ours are susceptible to BSOD. It's instable," he explained quickly. "I've already tried it." 

"Frank, if I hear something more like ABCs, I'd swear I'm going to fling you out that window!" Joe replied exasperatedly. 

"Sorry," Frank said with an amused grin. "It's Blue Screen of Death. Actually, the name is some sort of a joke. If there's an error, the screen turns blue and freezes the computer." 

"Uh-huh, I get it." 

"Get what?" 

"Computers are just like girls. You thought you know them so well, but you could never understand them." 

"I don't think I want to know where you get _that_ kind of analogy." 

"Hey, I'm the expert on girls," Joe grinned. "Anyway, haven't you forgotten Phil's lab just got fried?" he reminded Frank. 

Frank muttered something under his breath as he slammed his right fist against his left palm in annoyance for the bad timing. "What about Vanessa? I know she has the same computer system like Phil's in her barn," he suggested, remembering Vanessa's mother's work with computer animation. 

Joe didn't reply. He was already dialing Vanessa's number in a second. 

"Hey, Van," Frank heard Joe spoke up through the receiver. "Are you still on this Friday?" Joe asked with a grin. 

"Joe!" Frank groaned, and shook his head. He should have known how unpredictable his brother was. 

Joe stuck out his tongue at him before returning to speak to Vanessa. He flirted for a few minutes with her. 

Frank felt his face flushed as he heard his brother's impish romantic conversation with Vanessa. He tried to tune out, but it proved to be difficult. So, he deliberately walked out of his room, and went back to his father's study. His father and Liz were still discussing about the case. 

When Joe arrived a few minutes later, he still had the grin on his face. 

"Well?" Frank asked him. 

"She has the system, but she didn't have the software that Phil has," his brother reported. 

"Man!" Frank said in frustration. 

"What do you think she is? An engineer?" Joe pointed out. "Anyway, I've already called someone who might have something like Phil's setup." 

"Who?" Frank asked. 

"Duncan." 

"Duncan?" Frank frowned quizzically. 

"Duncan Blackwell, remember?" Joe pointed out in annoyance at his brother's sudden short-term memory loss. 

"Who is this Duncan Blackwell? Can we trust him?" Mr. Hardy suddenly asked curiously. 

Frank realized his father didn't know about Duncan. They had met him not too long ago, trying to clear his name from a murder charge. 

"He's Joe's, um, childhood friend," Frank explained. "He works in Datatronics." 

Mr. Hardy raised his eyebrows in surprised. "I thought I knew everyone of your school friends," he remarked. 

"Okay, so he was a delinquent. What's wrong of being friends with him? He's changed now," Joe blurted defensively. 

"I'm not implying anything," his father replied. "I was merely surprised. I'm starting to wonder what you were doing the whole time while you were in middle school." 

"Hanging out with delinquents for one," Frank added good-naturedly. 

"Why am I not surprised?" Mr. Hardy said, shaking his head in mock disappointment. 

"Ha, ha, very funny," Joe said sarcastically. "Come on, Frank, what do you say about it?" he changed the subject. 

"I guess it doesn't hurt to talk to Duncan," Frank agreed. "But first, I think we need to talk to Bruce's parents, and tell them what had happened. They might get worried." 

"Do we really have to? The police might already have done that," Joe pointed out. 

"But still, I'd like to talk to them," he replied thoughtfully. 

Joe knew there was no way he could change his brother's mind when he saw the determined look on his face. 

"Okay, we go to Bruce's place first before meeting Duncan," Joe suggested. 

"Fine by me," his brother agreed. 

*** 

The Hardy brothers, and Liz arrived at the Prescott's home ten minutes later. The house was situated almost at the edge of Bayport. It was a single story redbrick house. Overgrown weeds sprouted all over the front lawn. 

"Are you sure the police have been here?" Frank asked doubtfully, and pointed at the front door. It was ajar. 

"Maybe someone's forgotten to close the door?" Joe suggested. He knocked on the door. "Hello?" he called out. 

Silence. 

Slowly, he pushed the door open. 

"Frank, are you sure you've got the right address?" Joe asked him. "This place looks like no one's been living here!" he said, even though the room was devoid of dust and cobwebs. 

"That's what Bruce had given me," Frank said, looking around the empty room curiously. No furniture. No pictures. Nothing. "Let's take a look anyway," he suggested. 

The threesome began exploring the house. Joe found a couple of pizza boxes, and a few cans of beer in the refrigerator. 

"But this looks like someone's been living here," Liz said to Joe. 

"Guys! Come here!" Frank suddenly called out from other part of the house. 

Both of them left the kitchen and went to search for Frank. They found him in a small bedroom with only a worn single bed and a dresser. Frank was holding something in his hand. 

"Eww! How come you're so calm holding a piece of human skin?" Joe made a face in disgust. "Not to mention that scalp!" 

Frank looked grim as he held it up for them to look. "Recognize this face?" 

Joe's mouth hung open. "Frank…it's you!" 


	14. CHAPTER 14

**CHAPTER 14**

"I don't get it, why was Bruce impersonating you?" Joe asked Frank ten minutes later. His eyes were on the road as he steered the wheel toward the street. 

The Hardys and Liz were in the van, on their way to Datatronics, where Duncan worked. 

Frank glanced on the dashboard, where he had placed the rubber mask that he had found in Bruce's room. 

"He wouldn't, unless he's working for Morris or Massalski," Frank replied grimly. "I guess that's why he was at Phil's. He must have found out the chip is on the project board." 

"So, the kidnapping was staged?" Liz suddenly asked. She was sitting at the back of the van. 

"Maybe, but they tried to take you, too," Joe reminded her. 

"But they didn't know that Liz was coming, at first," Frank pointed out. "The kidnapping was staged, and when they found out Liz was there – then that was luck on their side." 

"That reminds me of the email virus," Joe spoke up. "Liz told me it could only have been sent from a school computer." 

"Actually, that was what I wanted to tell you the other night before someone tried to kidnap me the first time," Liz explained. "I've checked the log files in my computer at school – someone had been looking through Frank's profile. And I'm sure it wasn't me, or George." 

"Had Bruce been using your computer?" Frank asked him. 

Liz bit her lower lip. "Yeah, once because he had to scan a picture for his class project. The scanner in the computer lab wasn't working. I did left him alone in the office for a few minutes." 

"And he took the opportunity to check my profile at that time," Frank concluded thoughtfully. 

*** 

Duncan Blackwell was in his office when the Hardys and Liz arrived there. The twenty-one-year-old young man was sitting behind his computer, typing something furiously. It seemed he was the only one left in the office. 

"Hey, Duncan! Working overtime?" Joe called out to him, walking toward Duncan's cubicle. His friend was a programmer in Datatronics. 

"Oh, hi, Joe. I was about to think you weren't coming," Duncan replied with a grin. He stood up, towering the three of them. His gray eyes looked at the rest of the visitors. 

"This is Elizabeth Bishop," Joe introduced him to Liz. 

"The one in the newspaper?" Duncan raised a dark eyebrow questioningly. 

"She's innocent," Joe assured him. 

"Aha, I used to be in the same boat as you," Duncan told her, shaking her hand. "Thanks to the Hardys, they cleared my name." 

"I hope it turns out well for me, too," Liz replied, looking a little awed by Duncan. "I've heard about you, too – just didn't expect you to be this…young." 

"Don't worry, I've been told that many times," he replied good-naturedly. 

"You look well," Joe commented to Duncan, slapping him by his broad shoulders. He hadn't seen his friend for a while. Duncan's thick black hair had grown longer, and had to be tied back. Joe still couldn't get used to seeing him in formal working suit. His friend would look more at home in a pair of jeans. 

He glanced at his wristwatch. "Thanks. I hope Lyn doesn't wait for me at home for dinner," Duncan replied, referring to his wife. "I wished we have a dog so I can slip food to under the table." 

"Man, it couldn't be that _bad_," Joe said with a grin. 

"If you think it's _not_ bad eating 'charcoal', then you're insane. She wouldn't even let me cook." 

"Poor Duncan. I guess Lyn is the big boss in the house, huh?" Joe shook his head, looking amused. 

Duncan just gave him a mock warning glare. Then, he turned to Frank and grinned. "_So, wie geht's?"_

"_Ganz gut,"_ Frank replied. 

Joe groaned. "You two should make an appointment one day to practice your German." 

"_Was ist passiert?"_ Duncan pointed to Frank's bandaged wrists and the wounds on his face. 

"It's a long story," Frank replied. "Anyway, we need a favor from you," he told Duncan and quickly explained their problem. 

"Sure, no problem," Duncan told them. 

"Thanks," Liz replied gratefully. "We might need a spectrum analyzer that has a Bluetooth transceiver, and…" she began naming a few software, and other tools she needed. 

Duncan began pulling out an analyzer from a nearby shelf and placed it on his desk. To Joe, it looked like a heart monitor, which he usually saw in hospitals. 

"I've already got the software installed in my computer," Duncan told them. "Make yourself at home." 

"Thanks," Frank replied and sat behind Duncan's desk. He pulled out the board from his jacket. Liz began setting up the connection between the board, the computer, and the analyzer with an expert ease. 

"Okay, it's ready," Liz said a few minutes later. 

"I just have one question," Frank said. "Since I've already downloaded my own project program into the memory, wouldn't it erased your original program?" he asked her. 

"It doesn't matter where you've downloaded it, like I've told you earlier, there are certain part of the chip that are not included in the specs. So, my program's safe, and you couldn't erase it anyway, unless you burned it out physically." 

"What's the analyzer for?" Joe asked curiously. 

"To check if there's any radio signal coming from the chip," Liz explained. 

"If it doesn't?" 

"Then either it's the wrong chip, or the chip is faulty." 

She began typing something on the keyboard. Frank noticed she was executing some programs. Her fingers were flying over the keyboard, too fast for Frank to catch on. He could only see some hexadecimal numbers scrolling up on the screen. He didn't think he'd done this before. 

"You're debugging the program," Duncan said, who obviously had no problem noting what she was doing. 

"You didn't do any backups when you did the program last time?" Frank asked her. 

"I did, but everything is kept by my ex-boss," she told him. "Except for this chip. It's the only prototype from the project." 

"But if he had enough information from the project, he could make another chip by himself," Joe remarked thoughtfully.

"Actually, I had the backup program encrypted, and protected with a password," Liz said sheepishly. "I'm the only one who knows about it." 

"I'll bet Garcia's furious about that," Frank commented. 

Liz began pushing some buttons, and turning some knobs to tune right frequency on the analyzer. 

Joe could see a sinuous neon-green line against the black background on the analyzer. 

"Now, I'm trying to send a word to the board," Liz explained as she typed 'HELLO' from the keyboard. "I'm doing a feedback loop – so whatever I just sent, would be looped back into this computer." 

A few seconds later, the green lines on the analyzer began moving erratically. Duncan adjusted the knob to get the right focus on the signal. Then the computer screen began displaying a series of alphabets and numbers. 

"Seems to be working. The analyzer is receiving the data from the board - wirelessly," Duncan told them a while later. "And returns it back to the PC." 

"You can tell from looking at that?" Joe asked in amazement, glancing at the gibberish words on the computer screen. 

"It's in an encrypted form," Liz explained. "If I decrypt it, I would get back the original word that I've sent." She continued typing again, and the screen flashed the word 'HELLO'. 

"Yep, it's working," she said in relief. 

"You'll be surprised how much information we can capture using this analyzer – cell phone signals, radio, you name it," Duncan explained to Joe. 

"So, now we know it's working," Frank said, "I think I'd better remove the chip from my project board. Do you have a soldering equipment, Duncan?" 

"Yeah, it's a good thing I just used it. You don't have to wait long to get it warmed-up," he replied and pointed to another room. 

"Thanks," Frank said. He disconnected his board from the terminal, and headed to the room. Then he carefully de-soldered the chip from his board. He used a pair of tweezers to pick up the chip. 

A few minutes later, he returned to the others. 

"So, what now?" Joe asked Frank. 

"I think we give this chip to Dad. He'll know what to do. I'm not convinced about giving this to the CIA or the FBI," his brother replied. Then he turned to Duncan. "We'd better get going now. Thanks again, Duncan." 

"Like I said, no problem. It's all I can do after you helped me last time." 

After saying goodbye to Duncan, the three of them headed home. 

"So, how's your meeting with Duncan?" Mr. Hardy asked his sons, when they found him in the kitchen, preparing to eat his dinner. Mrs. Hardy was serving a couple of side dishes on the table. 

The waft of pot roast made Joe's stomach growling in anticipation. While Frank explained to his father about the chip, Joe made his way to the table and helped himself with the dinner. 

"Who's your friend?" Mrs. Hardy asked Joe when she noticed Liz. 

Joe quickly introduced Liz to his mother, who offered her to join them. Liz politely accepted her offer and sat down next to Joe. 

"Joe, what is that smell?" his mother asked, wrinkling her nose. 

"Uh…I forgot to take a bath?" Joe answered meekly, knowing he still had the scent of smoke on him. 

"Really, young man," his mother shook her head. "You remind me of that fireplace in my cousin's home in Scotland." She shuddered at the thought. 

"I'll clean up after this," Joe promised solemnly. He quickly washed his hands before returning to the table. 

"So, I heard you're quite a wanted person," Mrs. Hardy made a conversation with Liz, as she placed a big bowl of potato salad on the table. 

Liz looked uncomfortable. "Yeah, I guess you could say that…the FBI, my boss, Massalski," she replied. "Quite a bunch of characters, huh?" 

"Massalski?" Mrs. Hardy prompted as if recognizing the name. She turned to her husband with raised eyebrows. "Fenton, wasn't he the one who kidnapped you years ago?" 

"Kidnapped?" Joe suddenly looked interested. "You never told us, Dad." 

"It's not that important, really," Mr. Hardy answered dismissively. His expression suddenly turned guarded. "I –" 

The sudden shrill of the phone interrupted the conversation.

"I'll get it." Frank ran to pick up the phone. 

"Hardy residence." 

"Frank Hardy," a smooth voice suddenly growled, "I know you have the chip. Bring it tonight at midnight, including Ms. Bishop – Bayport Park, first bench on the right after the main entrance. No cops – just bring yourself and Ms. Bishop." 

"Why should I?" Frank suddenly realized the man was Morris. 

Morris gave a harsh laugh. "I'm glad you asked. You see…I've got your friends as the bargain. Two of them actually." 

_Two?_ He suddenly grew worried. "You're lying." 

"I'll convince you," Morris replied. Frank could almost see the smug look on his face. 

"Frank?" It was Phil on the line. 

"Phil, are you all right? What happened?" he asked anxiously. 

"I'm fine. I –" 

"Enough?" Morris was back at the end of the line. 

"What about the other one?" 

"You mean the pretty blond?" Morris sneered. 

"F-Frank?" A girl's voice suddenly came over. She sounded as if she tried to conceal her nervousness. 

Frank grew cold when he heard the familiar voice. Fear almost made his brain numb_._ "Callie," he breathed. "Are you all right? Where are you?" 

"Satisfied?" Morris's voice came over before Callie could answer. 

"She's not involved in this. Both of them aren't," Frank said through clenched teeth. His grip around the receiver tightened. 

"Too late, she was dropping off some books at the Cohen's house when we took the boy. Let's just say, she was at the wrong place at the wrong time. You bring the chip and Ms. Bishop tonight, and we'll let them go." 

"If you hurt them, I'd swear I'll –" 

"I'm not playing your rules, kid. Bring them tonight. Meanwhile, my men have some nice toys to play on the girl and the boy," Morris laughed and hung up the phone. 

But Frank could hear Callie's terrified scream before the phone went dead. 


	15. CHAPTER 15

**CHAPTER 15**

Frank Hardy slammed down the phone, and started pacing. _Oh, no. What am I going to do? How could I possibly rescue Callie and Phil, and try not to endanger Liz's life at the same time? _He never felt so helpless in his life – not knowing what to do, while Morris was happily in a process of torturing Callie, and Phil. 

His hands balled into tight fists just thinking about it. He remembered too well about Morris's 'toys'. The electrocution, the thumbscrews, the rack…A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him when he recalled what he had gone through when Morris had kidnapped him. He was quite lucky that Morris didn't use the thumbscrews or the rack on him. He could only hope that Morris had said _that_ just to frighten him. 

_Callie and Phil don't deserve this. It's all my fault. I should at least tell Phil about the chip. Stop whining!_

He knew he had to be calm and think carefully. He glanced at his wristwatch and groaned inwardly. Five hours before midnight, he thought. Five hours of endless waiting – and suffering. 

He took out the chip from his pocket. He couldn't help giving it a scowl for starting this whole mess. 

"You're nothing but a worthless piece of trouble," he told the chip angrily. He felt like flinging it as far as the end of the galaxy, when his mother suddenly appeared at the doorway of the dining room. 

"Aren't you eating, Frank?" his mother asked curiously. 

"I'll be there," he replied vaguely as he casually pocketed the chip. 

His mother still hadn't backed away. "Are you all right? I heard you shouting a minute ago," she asked worriedly. 

"It's okay, Mom. Just false alarm," he forced a smile. He wouldn't want his mother to get worried over him – not now. 

"Okay, honey," his mother replied before giving him one last look and returned to the dining room. 

When Frank came back for dinner a moment later, his appetite had depleted. But he made a big show of focusing on his dinner. 

"Who was that on the phone?" Joe asked him. 

"Wrong number," he fibbed. Frank could feel Joe's eyes stabbing him with a disbelief look from across the table, but Joe didn't press further, much to his relief. He would have to tell his brother about it after dinner. 

But after dinner, Joe immediately went to the bathroom for his shower, while Mrs. Hardy prepared the guest room for Liz. Frank was forced to wait until Joe was done. 

"Hey, what are you two doing here?" Joe demanded when he stepped out of the bathroom a while later. He was surprised to see Frank, and Liz in his room. Liz was sitting at his desk. Frank was pacing like a caged tiger. And Joe was embarrassed – especially in front of Liz. He was only clad with a towel around his waist. He couldn't do anything but clutched the towel protectively. 

"Oh, boy. Sorry, Joe, but Frank wants to speak to all of us – ASAP," Liz replied, reddening in embarrassment. 

Joe rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Really, Frank, you should have given me an advance notice before picking my room." 

"Sorry, but we've got an emergency," Frank told him anxiously. 

Liz was about to get up when Joe stopped her. "Don't worry, I'll go and change in Frank's room," he told her and quickly grabbed his clothes from the dresser before disappearing behind the bathroom door. 

Joe came back a few minutes later in his clean jeans and T-shirt, toweling his damp blond hair. 

"So, what's up?" he asked, sitting on his bed. 

"Phil and Callie have been kidnapped," Frank announced simply. 

Joe shot up from his bed. "What?" He wondered if his ears were functioning correctly after his shower. Maybe the water had clogged his ears. 

Frank quickly explained about the phone call, and relayed the message he had received from Morris. 

"This doesn't sound good at all," Joe remarked thoughtfully. "We can't jeopardize Liz's life." 

"We can't let Callie and Phil die, either," Frank retorted. 

"I think we should just do what they want," Liz suggested plaintively. "After all, this is all my fault. I started the whole thing. I shouldn't have hidden the chip in the first place." 

Joe was about to protest, but Frank cut him off. 

"We have no choice, Joe," he told him matter-of-factly, even though he hated as much endangering Liz's life. 

"But what about Dad? He would want to know what you've done to the chip," Joe pointed out. 

"I'll save for that later," Frank replied. He didn't care about the consequences at the moment. All he could think about now was saving Callie and Phil. 

"We can't let Morris and his goons get away for this," Joe still protested. "We should have backups just in case if anything goes wrong." 

Frank sighed in frustration. "Why do you pick such a bad time to be cautious, and levelheaded now?" 

"Because every time something happens to Callie, you never think straight!" Joe retorted. "This time we'll do it my way!" 

"But –" 

"No buts," Joe held up his hand to stop him. "I might not be _that_ good in planning strategies, but we'll do as Morris says, and I'm going to be there, too – in my own way." 

"But –" 

"Nope." 

"Joe, th–" 

"I'm not listening." 

"Wh–" 

"End of discussion." 

Liz shook her head in amazement. "I bet stubbornness runs in this family, huh?" 

*** 

The Bayport Park was a small park, which was situated almost at the outskirt of town. Half of the area actually was a landscape garden, built in the late 19th century by an English nobleman. Since then, it had been one of Bayport's attractions. The recreational park didn't get built till the early 1950s. 

But Joe Hardy didn't have time to pay much attention to the garden as he parked the van across the road from the main entrance. From this distance, he could observe the meeting without getting caught. He pulled out his infrared binoculars from the glove compartment. 

Joe had decided to be at the park half an hour earlier, so that he could scout around the area to find the best place to hide the van, and observe the exchange at the same time. 

Frank, who was sitting next to Joe, tried not to glance at the clock every second before the meeting. The few hours had been like eons. Now he could understand how Joe felt about waiting. He felt he should be able to do something while waiting. Something that he could do to save Callie and Phil. 

Ten minutes before the meeting, Frank and Liz got out of the van and headed toward the park. First bench on the right, Frank recalled what Morris had told him. Woods covered mostly on the right side of the park, and he found the particular bench just in front of it, under a canopy of red-turning leaves that carved the luminous night sky like black and red crochet. A single streetlight at the entrance helped illuminated the front of the park. 

Liz looked nervous. She clutched her jacket tighter around her against the cold night air. 

"What time is it now?" she suddenly asked Frank. 

He glanced at his wristwatch. "Eleven fifty-five." 

"I hope it'll go smoothly," she said, almost to herself than Frank. 

"Me, too." 

They had planned to give the chip to Morris after he released Callie and Phil. And Joe would be ready for Morris to rescue Liz. But Frank wasn't sure if Morris would be coming alone; even though Joe had assured him he had it under control, whatever that means. 

"I still feel guilty about the whole thing though," Liz admitted. 

"You didn't know this would happen," Frank told her. 

"But I was one of the people creating the chip," she pointed out. "And now it's a fair game by people like Massalski, and the government." 

"Some people would exploit others for their own sinister intentions, and you and your colleagues were deceived by Mr. Garcia's false motives. It's not your fault." 

Before she could say anything, a dark sedan suddenly pulled up in front of the entrance. A man in dark clothes came out of the car. He glanced around before walking slowly toward them. 

Frank tensed and braced himself up against the newcomer. There was no way Joe could handle Morris. The man had brought his goons. One was the driver, and maybe one more in the passenger seat. And what about Phil and Callie? Were they in the car? He hadn't heard them calling out in panic or anything. _Could this be a trap? Or had Morris killed them? Stupid, stupid me, why didn't I think of this before? _

"Good, both of you are here," the man said crisply. Even though Frank hadn't seen his face the last time, he still could recognize Morris's deep, smooth voice. But this time the man didn't bother hiding his face – he was about in his late thirties with dark crew cut hair, and dark eyes. He was a few inches shorter than Frank, but stockier.

Then Liz gasped when Morris pulled up something from his jacket. It was a .44 Magnum revolver. And it was pointing directly at Frank.

"What are you doing? This isn't part of the deal," Frank Hardy said calmly to Morris as the man trained his weapon on him.

"There's been a change of plan. Like I said, I don't play by your rules," Morris replied with a twisted smile.

"Where are Callie and Phil?" Frank demanded.

"Got 'em tucked somewhere," he replied cryptically.

Frank didn't think he liked the sound of Morris's tone of voice. But he must do whatever it takes to get them back safely.

"You mean they're not here?" Liz asked. Her voice was slightly shaky.

"Do you see them?" Morris sneered.

Frank clenched his hands into fists, fingers digging into his flesh until his knuckles turned white. "Then where are they?"

"Sorry, time's over," Morris's voice turned cold. He swiftly pulled the trigger and shot Liz and Frank point-blank. 


	16. CHAPTER 16

**CHAPTER 16**

"Anything happened, yet?" Fenton Hardy asked Joe as he crouched next to his son, spying the meeting between Frank, Liz, and Morris. They were hiding behind some underbrush just across the street from the park entrance.

"Nope," Joe reported.

Before leaving the house, Joe had informed his father about the meeting, while Frank and Liz waited for him in the van. Frank didn't even know that Joe had told his father. To avoid suspicion, Mr. Hardy would follow them to the meeting from his own car. Now that he was here, Joe couldn't help feeling relieved.

They watched through their binoculars in silence for a while before Joe gasped quietly when he saw Morris pulling out his gun and trained it on his brother and Liz.

"Dad, we've got to save them!" he said in hushed tone.

His father hadn't a chance to reply when they saw Morris pulled the trigger.

Joe wanted to cry out for his brother when he saw Frank and Liz crumpled to the ground, but somehow his voice stuck in his throat. _No, no, no, no. This isn't happening. It isn't. It isn't. _He wanted to be there – wanted to see if Frank was really dead, wanted to see if he hadn't been dreaming all of it.

"Doesn't make sense…makes no sense at all," he heard his father muttered.

Joe started to stand up, but his father quickly pulled him down.

"Dad, what are you doing? You're going to let them get away with this?" Joe asked incredulously.

"Joe, think! What good will it do to them if Ms. Bishop's dead? They need the password from her. And did you see Frank giving Morris the chip?" he pointed out.

"No, because Morris would have taken it easily if Frank's –"

"Don't even say it, Joe," his father cut him off sternly. "I just hope this isn't what it appears to be."

"But what if it is?"

His father didn't answer. He didn't have to. Just from looking at his stony unresponsive look that was etched on his handsome face told Joe enough what he was thinking. He felt guilty.

Joe knew they had to reevaluate their plan. He glanced again through the binoculars. The man, whom he assumed to be Morris, was commanding his goons to carry Frank and Liz's limp bodies into the dark blue Honda. It was the same car he had seen following him to school last time, and also during the attempted kidnapping.

Looks like they are cleaning up the mess, Joe thought bitterly.

"Come on, get in the van. I'm coming with you," his father said grimly.

Both of them carefully stepped out from the underbrush. Joe jogged back toward the van, and stashed the binoculars into the glove compartment.

There was a silence once they were inside the van. More like a remorse silence. Joe couldn't cry. The shock of seeing Frank getting shot was too great to overcome his grief. He hoped his father was right. He really hoped so. But if something _did_ happen to Frank, he vowed to get even with those men – whatever the cost. _They will pay for this. I'll make sure of that._

"Follow the car," Mr. Hardy said, breaking the silence. He looked solemnly ahead of him, as if contemplating the situation.

Joe took a deep breath for a while. Suddenly filled with determination, he jammed the keys into the ignition, started the van, and pulled out to the street a little later after the Honda began moving. The road was nearly deserted, and Joe kept a safe distance between the van and the Honda.

_Okay, now what are we supposed to do when they reached their destination?_ They couldn't possibly manhandle them alone. A guy like Morris would have his armed-thugs guarding his place – wherever it was.

Ahead, the dark car turned around a corner to the main road with screeching tires. Looks like they are in a hurry, he thought. Either that, or they had spotted the van.

Joe followed behind, with slower pace. He didn't want them to get suspicious. There were a few cars moving along the main street. He deliberately let a car moved between him and the Honda.

A sudden pair of bright headlights glared through the rearview mirror. Was someone else tailing them? Or the Honda in front? He also noticed another pair of headlights moving behind the car that was behind him. It might be nothing, but the probability of the number of cars suddenly coming out from the same deserted road that he had been just now made him cautious – and suspicious.

Who was tailing whom?

He wanted to shake off his tail, but he couldn't afford to lose his sight on the Honda, either.

Without signaling, the dark blue Honda made a left turn toward Dockview Drive. Joe knew there would be no traffic here for cover, so he swung the van slowly, and turned off his headlights. The streetlights that lined along the road helped his vision.

The road led to the Bayport docks. The area was scattered with old and dingy warehouses – most of them had been abandoned for years.

It would be tricky to move along this street. There were too many forked roads leading to each warehouse. The van swayed slightly from side to side as it moved along the bumpy road. He was glad the van had been replaced with new tires. They gave him better movement on a road like this.

Man, I feel like going through a ghost town, he thought as he controlled the steering wheel to make sure the van didn't steer away. The place was so dead that he could even see some night creatures running across the road.

Rats, Joe thought, recognizing the scampering rodents. _Big fat rats. _Now he knew how Frank had gotten those teeth marks on his body. Morris probably had collected the rats into his little basket, and decided to use it for his own twisted purposes.

At the reminder of being twisted, he instinctively shuddered inwardly at the thought of Phil and Callie, who were now held captives by Morris. For Frank's sake, he hoped they were okay. He wouldn't want to know what he would do if something bad happened to both of them, especially Callie. He knew Frank was very protective if anything happened to Callie. He hoped he wouldn't have to tell them about Frank, if his brother was found to be dead. He hoped…he hoped…he hoped…

Joe glanced at his father, suddenly noticing how unusually quiet he was. All his father did during the ride was squirming uncomfortably on his seat, tapping his fingers impatiently against the dashboard, or running his hand through his hair – which reminded him so much of Frank. _Do nervous traits can be passed down in family? Does he even notice where we're going now? Joe was tempted to run the van through an old phone booth ahead of him just to find that out. _

"They're slowing!" his father spoke up suddenly.

Joe startled out of his thoughts as if he'd just heard a glass breaking. He noticed the Honda in front of him slowed down, and turned right to a warehouse, almost at the far end of the block.

Joe didn't follow. Instead, he pulled the van to a stop across the street from the warehouse. He was about to climb out of the van when men in dark clothes suddenly appeared beside the van. They yanked the door open, blocking his path. He noticed his father was experiencing the same thing, too. The men began pointing their semi-automatics straight at his heart, slowly pulling the trigger. Joe choked back his fear, wondering that he could be sharing the same fate as Frank's, tonight.


	17. CHAPTER 17

**CHAPTER 17**

It was cold. He shivered, and tightened his jacket around him, and curled into a comfortable position, to gather more warmth. Somehow it didn't feel comfortable. The bed felt hard, and slightly damp. He could even feel something…small, solid fragments prodding against his back.

Annoyed, he opened his eyes…slowly trying to adjust his eyes against the single light bulb that helped beaming the dingy room.

"Good, you're awake," a voice said curtly. "I was about to get the smelling salts."

The voice sounded familiar…but he still couldn't register it to his brain, yet. _Where am I?_ He wondered drowsily, trying to sit up.

Rough hands suddenly grabbed him by his jacket, and pushed him to sit on a wooden chair. When he finally got his bearings, including the sight, and sound, he noticed he was in some sort of a dusty storeroom…a very familiar room.

Instantly, he recognized Morris's face, sneering in front of him. And everything came back to him instantly, like seeing the headlight of a moving train rushing at him.

"Callie!" he exclaimed, getting up from his seat.

"Sit down, Mr. Hardy," Morris commanded coldly, as another pair of strong hands held Frank down from moving.

Frank glanced beside him, and noticed Liz, too, was sitting on a chair – only she was still unconscious. There were a couple of men he didn't recognized. All of them were tall and muscular, and holding submachine guns. Morris's thugs, he thought, except for one that seemed out of place. This man, in his early forties, was shorter, wearing tweed jacket, and a pair of beige slacks. He had dark hair and pale blue eyes, and pencil-thin mustache. And a woman. She almost escaped Frank's notice. She had short blond hair and blue eyes. She was about in her late twenties. Frank instinctively thought about the impersonators. She had to be the one impersonating as Liz.

"My gun's been modified. I've got you both tranquilized, just in case you got stubborn," Morris told them with a wicked grin. "But the next bullet will be for real." He pulled out another gun from his jacket. This time it was a semiautomatic.

"So, now you've got us," Frank began, "what about the bargain?" He wanted so much to know about Callie and Phil's condition.

"Never beat around the bush, huh?" Morris smirked. "Then hand over the chip now." His voice hardened.

"Not until I know that Callie and Phil are all right," Frank shot back.

"_Now_." Morris pointed the barrel against Frank's temple. His eyes darkened dangerously.

Frank gritted his teeth, and stared at Morris, unfazed. He reached inside his pocket.

"Take it out slowly," Morris ordered as he watched Frank carefully.

Slowly, he handed the plastic case to Morris, who snatched it away from Frank. He immediately handed the case to the man in the tweed jacket.

"Sam," Morris called one of his thugs, "bring the girl and the boy," he ordered crisply.

A broad muscular man left the room.

Frank studied the man in tweed jacket curiously.

"You're Mr. Garcia, aren't you?" he suddenly asked the man.

The man, who was about to open the plastic case, looked startle at Frank.

"So, Ms. Bishop must have told you how she was fired," Mr. Garcia remarked, after gaining his composure. "I'm sure she told you how I framed her for espionage?" he prompted.

"Did you?"

"She would be dispensable if it wasn't for her stupidity to encrypt the program," he growled, glaring at still-unconscious Liz.

"It's a good thing she did that," Frank countered, "if you were planning to give it to Massalski."

"It's also a good reason why you, too, must die," Garcia returned, even though he didn't acknowledge about his involvement with Massalski.

"Does that mean you're working for Massalski?" Frank continued prodding.

"Even if I have, every evidence that has me connected with him is destroyed by now," the man said and shrugged, as if he didn't bother about it at all.

"So, you don't really have to kill me. You've destroyed the evidence," Frank reasoned.

"But you're a Hardy," Morris spoke up. "Imagine our surprise when we found out who bought the chip."

"So?"

"You won't give up. And with your father's history with Massalski, things are already bad enough," he replied with a meaningful look. "Did you know they were almost like you and Joe?" he added cryptically.

Frank narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean by that?" He didn't like what Morris was implying. Or he's deliberately playing games with me, Frank thought cautiously. _He's desperate._

"You should talk to your father," Morris said, "Oh, I forgot. I've already planned to have you killed, so I guess, you'll die without knowing it," he added with a smug, enjoying the uneasy look on Frank's face.

Frank was about to reply when a door behind him burst open. Sam, Morris's thug, came inside, carrying two limp bodies on his broad shoulders.

The muscled thug dropped the bodies to the floor, as if they were sacked potatoes. Both Callie and Phil were out cold.

"What have you done to them?" Frank asked angrily. He almost jumped out of his chair, but someone was constraining him by his shoulders.

The sight of visible bleeding wounds and bruises on Callie, and Phil's faces and arms worried Frank like mad. His heart almost broke when he glanced at Callie again. _She doesn't deserve this. Nobody deserves this._

"Aw, is the sight too disturbing?" Morris said with mock sympathy.

Frank shot him a murderous look.

"Easy, Hardy," a familiar voice behind him said. It was the man who was constraining him.

"Bruce Prescott, I presumed," Frank said without turning around.

"How clever you are," Bruce mocked. He stood before Frank. This time he didn't look like a typical high school student. He looked more to be in his mid-twenties.

"Ahh, our master of disguise, Conrad Silverhawk," Morris announced, referring to Bruce.

"Found the mask in your so-called house," Frank retorted to Bruce a.k.a. Conrad. "You were impersonating me."

"Bet it gave those G-men something to chase, while Morris tried to get Liz at the same time," Bruce said.

"Is that why you transferred to Bayport High? So, you can check what Liz was up to?" Frank asked.

Bruce made a tsk-tsk sound. "I thought you are more clever than that. I was keeping an eye on _you_."

"Gee, I'm flattered," Frank said sarcastically.

"Garcia found out you had bought the exchanged chip, and we've made a plan to get it from you. Seeing Liz there was a pure coincidence. It was our lucky break."

"So, you sent the virus to the principal and framed me. That way you can kidnapped me while I was suspended from school," Frank concluded, and nodded in understanding. "But what I don't understand is…why did you frame Liz for the crime she didn't commit when you don't need her anymore? Why didn't you kill her like the rest of them? The FBI would be investigating her, and I don't think you need that kind of attention from the authority."

"It was a mistake – on my part. I needed a scapegoat to blame for the other murders," Mr. Garcia told him grudgingly. "I reported to the FBI first before Massalski ordered me to find her. That was after he found out the program was encrypted."

"You know what? If it wasn't for that, I would have kidnapped Joe in the first place," Bruce spoke up suddenly. His eyes suddenly grew cold.

"Why?"

"_Why?_ Because he's blond."

Frank was shocked to hear the hatred in Bruce's voice. The man seemed to have a personal vendetta against Joe.

"I don't get it, what did he ever do to you? He never met you before."

"Oh, I know he doesn't know me, or Massalski, but we _know_ him."

Frank decided that Bruce had either mistaken Joe for someone else, or he was just plain crazy. _It's a trick. That's all it is. They're trying to scare me._

"I think that's enough! You've already messed up once, and I'm not letting you mess it up again," Morris spoke up roughly to Mr. Garcia.

His colleague looked as if he was about to retort, but he kept his mouth shut. Instead, he turned to Frank.

"Now, let's see if you gave us the right chip," Garcia said, opening the case. "If not, one of these two will die," he added. He pointed toward Callie and Phil.

Frank knew something was wrong as soon as he saw the displeased frown on Garcia's face. _What had gone wrong? I've given him the real chip._

Garcia looked at Frank levelly. "What are you trying to play, kid? You think I'm a fool by double-crossing me?" he roared.

"That's the thing you wanted," he replied firmly, trying to look confident at the same time.

"Are you saying that's not the chip?" Morris asked Garcia.

"EDSP123," Garcia read the printed label. "The same one that's been exchanged from my desk."

"Wait, I can explain –"

But Morris had slammed his fist toward Frank's midsection before he could continue.

Frank felt the air rushed out of his lungs. He gasped, and took a big gulp of air.

"Looks like we have a problem here," Garcia said, tossing the case back to Frank. It landed on Frank's lap.

"I said I can explain – No!" Frank shouted in horror when Morris trained his gun directly toward Callie's head. He pulled the trigger.

_Bang!_


	18. CHAPTER 18

**CHAPTER 18**

"No!"

Frank opened his eyes, expecting to see the gore sight of Callie in front of him. He didn't realize he had closed his eyes.

The first thing he saw was Garcia's expression. The shocked look on Garcia's face as he looked on the floor, where the bodies were lying, made Frank turned to look.

"What in the – ?" Frank said, unable to believe the sight. Morris was lying on the floor, with a bullet on his chest. One glance told Frank that the man was already dead.

He turned around, and almost took a double take when he saw a familiar person at the doorway. He was holding a gun.

"Agent Karlinger!" Frank exclaimed in shock.

Another person stood beside him.

"Frank! You're alive!" the look of pure happiness on Joe's face was short-lived when Bruce began training his submachine gun on Joe and Karlinger.

A sudden explosion erupted outside the room.

Garcia, and the thugs exchanged uneasy glances.

"Martha, Sam! Go and check it!" Garcia ordered the blond woman and the muscled man harshly. "I'll take care of these punks."

Martha, and Sam left the room, leaving only Garcia, Bruce, and another thug. The latter had his weapon pointing at Frank.

Garcia grabbed Liz, who was slowly regained consciousness. She gave a scream when Garcia pulled her to her feet.

The sounds of gunfire echoed outside the room. Frank wondered what was happening. It felt as if they were caught in the middle of a war.

Then all of sudden, everything seemed to be moving in fast motion.

Karlinger made a sudden lunge toward Bruce with a swift blow toward Bruce's jaw, while Joe tackled Garcia, knocking him, and Liz to the ground.

Frank took the diversion to give a full-force karate kick to the thug that had him at gunpoint. The gun cluttered to the concrete floor, and the thug gave a yowl of surprise. A look of anger crossed his face when he realized what had just happened. Frank didn't give him a chance, and gave him another kick that sent the man crashed against the chair, knocking him unconscious in the process.

Seeing that Joe and Karlinger had everything under control, Frank didn't waste his time checking Callie and Phil's condition.

"Are they all right?" Joe kneeled down beside Frank. Liz looked over their shoulders worriedly.

"Here, take this," he handed Joe the plastic case before checking Phil for a pulse. "Phil's all right, but I think he needs the paramedics right away," Frank reported with a relieved.

"I've already called them," Joe said. "What about Callie?" he asked as Frank gently examined her wounds. Frank noticed red marks on her wrists, which indicated she must had been tied up. Her face was covered with bruises on her forehead, some minor cuts on the sides of her face, and dried blood trickling at the corner of her lips and nose. He couldn't help feeling angry toward Morris for what he had done to Callie. But he couldn't do anything about it, now that Morris was dead. 

Callie stirred slightly. "Frank…hurts…little…" she mumbled drowsily, still closing her eyes and snuggled closer against him. 

"Callie?" Frank asked, puzzled. 

But her head had lolled to one side, unconscious again. 

"Looks like she's going to be okay," Joe remarked, slightly amused at his brother. 

"I guess…I don't see any major injuries, but we'd better get them both to the paramedics anyway," Frank told him, breathing a sigh of relief. 

"You're right," Joe agreed, and carried Phil over his shoulder, while Frank carried Callie. 

By the time they reached the door, the sounds of gunshot had stopped. A man stood in front of the doorway. 

"Dad!" Frank asked in surprise. "What are you doing here?" 

"We've got everything under control here," he told them. "And as for me being here, I've already knew about your meeting with Morris." 

"What?" Frank asked, as they walked out of the warehouse and headed toward the ambulance, which was parked between two squad cars. 

He and Joe handed Callie and Phil to the paramedics. 

Joe looked sheepish. "Actually, I told him," he confessed. "I know you told me not to tell him…" 

"I guess you did the right thing, Joe," Frank assured. "I wasn't really thinking clearly."

"When I thought I saw you dead…I…" his voice faltered, swallowing a lump in his throat.

"It's okay, Joe," Frank said comfortingly, giving him a fierce hug. He told them what had happened when Morris brought them here.

"You mean all that happened while I was out?" Liz asked in surprise.

Frank nodded. "I guess they didn't bother to wake you up. They needed the chip from me first, before forcing you to give the cipher key to the program.

"So, what had happened? How did the FBI know about this?" Frank asked Joe, changing the subject.

"Actually, they found me," Joe said. "They had been tailing us since we left the house."

"They still think I'm a suspect." Frank looked thoughtful. He turned to his father. "Dad, there's something I need to know. When I was captured, Morris mentioned something about Massalski. What did Morris mean about your history with him?"

Mr. Hardy's face turned impassive. He hesitated before answering. "We…We used to grow up together. We went to the same elementary school, and yes… we were best friends…," he admitted. He paused to look at his sons' shocked expressions. "… until we reached high school. I didn't know that Massalski's father was a crime lord, until my father told me about it when I was sixteen. As you know, your grandfather was the chief police of NYPD.

"I think you can just imagine – the son of a crime lord and the son of a chief police were best friends. And add to that, Massalski's father died on that same year, and Massalski inherited the so-called 'family business'. He wanted me to join his business after we finished high school – as his advisor, but I've already set my mind to be like my father. I did try to get him to quit his family business, but that guy was a tough nut. For him, family loyalty comes first than others.

"That was the time when we realized our differences. And that was also the time he finally declared me as his enemy. I didn't hear more about him when I started my training. Not until fifteen years later.

"Massalski's name came up again on one of my cases. I was kidnapped when I was tailing him on foot in downtown Manhattan. Both of you were seven and eight years old when that happened. I was taken to his place and beaten to a pulp. And he still wanted to offer me that same job. His advisor that time Mr. Silverhawk wasn't happy with that decision."

"Hey, Bruce's real name is Conrad Silverhawk," Frank suddenly spoke up.

"That's Massalski's advisor's son. Mr. Silverhawk had already planned to have his son, Conrad, to marry Massalski's daughter. But Massalski had other plans in mind. He tried to trick me to become part of his organization by planning to kidnap Joe."

"Me?" Joe stared incredulously.

"Yes, because you're blond," Mr. Hardy explained. "You don't know, Massalski. He has obsession for symmetries. By kidnapping you, and he'll keep you until you're adult enough to marry his daughter, who happens to be blond – and Conrad isn't blond. If that happens, I would also be a part of his organization – involuntarily."

"That's explains why Bruce – I mean, Conrad, is so angry at Joe," Frank said thoughtfully.

"To make a long story short, I managed to escape Massalski's prison. I dug out the earth until I reached the other side of the wall – which thankfully was the garden. I reported to my colleagues, and they raided the place, but Massalski and his men were gone when we arrived. The place was empty as if no one ever lived there.

"I know that we were not out of danger, yet. I was afraid that Massalski would kidnap Joe, so I told your mother about it, and we moved to Bayport a week later," Mr. Hardy finished.

Frank and Joe still had the stunned expression on their faces.

"We don't have to move again, do we?" Joe asked worriedly.

"No," his father replied firmly. "Not ever. I realized it wouldn't do any good running away."

"So, what's going to happen to me?" Liz asked anxiously.

"Massalski's still at large, so the FBI decided to send you to Witness Protection Program," Mr. Hardy informed her.

"Witness Protection Program?" Liz echoed dully. She didn't look pleased by the idea, but she didn't complain.

"The authorities are going to investigate more on Massalski. I would give them a million bucks if they could capture Massalski," Mr. Hardy said ironically. "They won't get anything on Massalski's whereabouts from those thugs."

"Yes, Ms. Bishop, we're going to give you a new identity," Agent Karlinger suddenly appeared beside them. Even Agent Jackson, and O'Connor stood nearby.

"So, where is the chip now?" Agent O'Connor asked Frank curtly.

Frank bristled, forcing to hold his temper against the CIA agent. "It's with him," he pointed to Joe.

"I think we have the right to obtain the chip," Agent Jackson retorted.

"You mean this?" Joe asked, opening the plastic case, where the chip lay inside. He picked up the chip.

"Hand it over, kid," O'Connor ordered, ignoring Agent Jackson.

Joe looked from his father's deadpanned expression to Frank's, and then to Agent Karlinger, Jackson, and O'Connor's. He shook his head.

"What do you mean by that?" Agent Jackson snapped. He turned to Frank. "I heard you're the sensible one, why don't you advise your brother to hand it to us?"

"Sorry, can't do that. It's his decision," Frank shook his head. "I don't really care about the chip."

"Me, too," Joe agreed. He dropped it to the ground and crushed it with his sneakers.

"You can't do that!" O'Connor said angrily. "I'm going to arrest you for destroying evidence."

"Evidence? That thing has cost lots of lives. Too many people had died because of it," Joe told her firmly.

"So, you think you can save lives by destroying it?" Jackson asked sarcastically. "We've already got the rest of the project details from Garcia's office. Someone will make it again sooner or later."

"I realize that, but in the meantime, no one's gonna die for _that_," Joe replied.

"I guess you don't realize the information we can learn from that thing," Jackson retorted.

"Yeah, I do learn one thing here – like recognizing your mistake when you make it again," Joe said with a hint of sarcasm.

"I think that's enough, Jackson," Karlinger told his partner firmly. "Let's get Ms. Bishop with us."

Jackson grunted as Karlinger led him away from the Hardys. They took Liz with them to their black car.

When the government agents were gone and out of earshot, Joe let out a breath he didn't realize he had been holding.

"I'm proud of you, son," Mr. Hardy told Joe with a smile.

Frank nodded. "You did the right thing."

"Did I?" Joe asked uncertainly. "I've ruined your science project, Frank."

"Don't worry 'bout it," his brother assured him. "We can find a substitute – something that doesn't have the name EDevices on it."

"Come on, let's go and check how Phil and Callie are doing," Mr. Hardy changed the subject.

"After we talked to Liz," Joe promised.

"Okay, I'll wait near the paramedics," his father told them, and walked away.

"Why do you want to talk to Liz?" Frank asked curiously.

"Just wanted to say good luck to her," Joe replied as they walked toward the FBI agents' car.

Liz was speaking to Karlinger and Jackson in a serious discussion. When she caught sight of them, she gave a wan smile.

Joe ignored the glare from Jackson.

"I just want to thank you two for helping me," Liz told them gratefully.

"No problem," Frank replied modestly. "We couldn't do it without your help, too."

"Any news where you might be transferred?" Joe asked her.

"They wouldn't say anything at the moment," Liz said, biting her lower lip. She looked worried about her future.

"I'm sure it'll be all right," Joe assured her. "And good luck."

"Thanks," she said with a forced smile.

"Ms. Bishop?" Agent Karlinger's voice came over gently. "We have to go now."

Liz turned to him and nodded. "Well, I guess it's goodbye," she said to them. She gave a wave before Agent Jackson led her to the backseat of the car. Then he climbed inside after her.

"See you boys someday," Agent Karlinger said to the Hardys with a wink. He gave a wave and climbed the driver seat.

As soon as Agent Karlinger disappeared inside the car, the front passenger door swung open at the same time. A man dressed in insignificant attires climbed out.

"Gray Man!" Joe said in disbelief.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Frank asked him suspiciously.

"Just wanted to say good job to you two. You've helped us quite conveniently," Gray Man said.

"Helped you?" Joe prompted.

Frank took a deep breath, realizing the truth. "Agent Karlinger, and Jackson aren't from the FBI, are they?"

"You mean they're working for the Network?" Joe glared at Gray Man.

"You know how we have to be…discreet," Gray Man replied.

"So, you're not sending Liz to the Witness Protection Program," Joe said with a hint of accusing tone.

"She would be useful working for us."

"She would never work for you."

"Oh, she will, when she finds out Mr. Eugene Bishop is working for us."

"Why you – !"

Frank held back his brother from clobbering the Gray Man, even though Frank felt like doing it, too. "Cool it, Joe," he told Joe sternly.

"Cool it?" Joe shot back. "He's the one who's been causing Liz a long suffering." He glared at the Gray Man.

"I realize that, Joe, but we can't do anything about it," Frank reasoned.

"Take it this way, at least she would be meeting her father again," Gray Man said before retreating back to the car.

The Hardys could only watch in helpless silence as the black car left the scene until it disappeared out of sight.

The boys stood in thoughtful silence for a moment.

"Come on, let's go see Callie, and Phil," Frank suddenly said.

"Yeah," Joe sighed heavily. "This doesn't turn out the way we want, does it?"

"You're right. It doesn't."

**THE END.**

**A/N:** _I would like to thank everyone that have read and reviewed the story. I appreciate it very much. Glad you all enjoyed the story._


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